In The Beginning
by TheTGroup
Summary: The story starts with the Battle of Canary Wharf, documenting the rise, the fall and the rebuild of Torchwood, with a few added twists along the way, for example a strange person falls for the rift and has the Torchwood team on their toes, from the start. Elsewhere Torchwood One is being rebuilt and run by some familiar faces. Read on to find out.
1. In The Beginning

21st July 2007

**GHOST WATCH** We interrupt this programme to bring you further details of the battle today. Today's Ghostwatch seems to be lasting longer then usual, we are not sure why this is taking place, but authorities warn people to stay indoors and may issue a curfew.

Reports from Paris, Berlin, Washington DC and Moscow say that the ghosts seem to be changing into metal men and causing a scene. The Eiffel Tower and the Whitehouse have suffered the worse blow and are beyond repair. They also say these robots process weapons and are very, very dangerous. Should not be approached at any time.

Our phone lines have been red hot reporting of the similar problem and your stories. Here are only some of reports:

**David R, from****London** _Everyone's saying they're ghosts but where's the proof? We deserve the truth!_

**Gary F, from****Scarborough**_We saw a whole load of them at our school. Mr Taylor says they're old teachers come back to make sure we do our homework._

**George P, from****Leeds**_As soon as it appeared I knew it was my Tiffany. She loves me that much._

**Sian L, from****London** _Mum says it's just a trick of the light but I know it's my dad._

**Rebecca P, from London**_Don't try and tell me that's my husband! People don't come back from beyond the grave._

**Suzanne M, from****Newport** _I screamed when I saw it in my pantry but then I realised, I knew it was my gran._

_We'll be reporting the latest occurrences, and featuring your real ghost stories, so give us a call or a text, or alternatively email the studio with your sightings._

* * *

It was the turning point for the Battle of Canary Wharf, Cybermen in every home on an international scale. They were everywhere even on the TV and Torchwood One was behind it. A void ship had come through to our world and the ghosts followed afterwards, initially thinking they were somehow connected. Yvonne Hartman was the boss at the time and the leader of an operation called Ghostshifts. Monica never really understood the main idea of it but opposite her office was the breach and when they fired particle engines at the space where the void came through the breach opened allowing the ghost to come through for a couple of minutes. Apparently Yvonne had it all under control but little did she know it was way over their heads.

Monica's first day on the job. She should have listened to her sister but she never did. The bond with her sister wasn't the best, they used to have so much in common and do everything together when they where younger, but they seem to grow apart and now they didn't get on as well as Monica would have liked. Her mother and father had got her the job which didn't make her very popular with the other workers either. Most of the people had years of experience and were a lot older than Monica. The suit she wore was terribly uncomfortable and itchy in all the wrong places. With no experience, the boss owed her father a favour. That's what came with having the De Souza name.

After all the embarrassing questions and the odd wolf whistles from the men and growls from the ladies, Monica sat down in her slightly run down office not exactly the best part of Torchwood One. She got told the last office had been closed down for refurbishment; now it was just an empty room with white sheets of tarpaulin draping from floor to ceiling. Monica walked past a few times hearing some weird noises, that didn't sound like a building site to her, but what would she know she's never worked in one. She knew she didn't have to work and she had no intention of staying in the job long. Her parents had made her work after being in the papers for the past three weeks due to her late night partying and drunken state around London. They had warned her once but she didn't listen so they had to make it clear and keep their warning. Monica was a daddy's girl and anything she wanted, she just had to ask him and she got it, she never really expected him to go through with it.

Being her first job she wanted to explore, even the no-go areas, what she didn't know about this place was the no-go areas are there for her own good, her parents may have worked in Torchwood for tens years, but neither Monica nor Christina knew a lot about what they actually do, but the childishly young Monica looked down at the starter manual on her desk, did she read it? No. Throwing the book straight into the bin without even a second glance, she flicked her hand behind her head and rested the five inches heels on the table as she watched the other outside through the glass wall working on something.

After being visited by her boss, she looked down at her hand at the black pistol she had been given with the words 'Torchwood' engraved down the side of it. She stared down at it never actually using one before, she knew there was some in the volts her dad used for his 'job' but she didn't expect to be given one on her first day. They also gave her a few ear pods, she didn't bother putting them on if she did they would get in touch with her all the time, and she couldn't be bothered with it. She put the gun in the waist belt and went for a break.

Monica had been wondering through the corridors on her break while the mid-day Ghostshift had been taking place. That's when she passed a sealed of area. She never could resist a sign that said Do Not Enter. Monica had recognized it as some old office, which were being revamped into better facilities for Torchwood One. That's all she knew. Walking through the plastic floor to ceiling drapes that had been put up over night, Monica could hear something like metal being welded or cut. Like everyone at the time, she had a /Ghost/. She knew she was being stupid but she always thought that her ghost was in fact one of her Exs who she had fell madly in love with and who got killed in a car crash. She could smell the familiar scent of Hugo Boss and it always sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. She knew her ghost was in the room at the time and when she pulled back one of the drapes to be faced with a black shape almost glowing her way, she smiled. "You should never sneak up on me like that" She laughed. The ghost never let her touch him but she felt comfort and comfortable with him around, even if it was for a couple of minutes for a mid-day Ghostshift.

"What are you doing down here little girl?" A man shouted somewhere behind her and the ghost automatically jumped in front of Monica as if protecting her "You shouldn't be down this far" He said then glanced at the ghost. "Oh another bloody shift, do me a favour and piss of"

Charlie Lewis – the second in command had taken a dislike to Lady flaming Monica pissing de Souza from the moment he set eyes on her because of her sudden fame in Torchwood One. Of course, jealousy had a big part to play in. Her family especially her parents were well known in most things and Monica being a De Souza wasn't any different. So it was thanks to that sudden fame, that got her a job in Torchwood in the first place. She had been treated like the second in command and the real second, who was Charlie didn't like it.

"On a break" Monica muttered replying to Charlie's question, noticing her ghost behind the second in command act funny, the Hugo Boss smell no longer filled the air, but that of some cheep scent she didn't like which Charlie was wearing. The feeling was mutual between them, actually Monica couldn't stand the sight of him and everybody knew it.

Monica started to scream as she saw her ghost changed into some sort of metal man – a robot? In panic she took out her gun which had been propped into the back of her waistband and fired a shot, not really concentrating her aim and well she never really was one to practice in firing range. Seeing has it been her first day she didn't have much training anyway.

In fear she saw the bullet hit Charlie and he fell to the ground in a pool of blood. "Oh god" she muttered, her ghost that wasn't her ghost any more was making its way over to her. She dropped the gun beside the body and ran for her life away from the whole scene. She heard the heavy hooves of the Cyberman behind her as she ran.

Charlie felt a pain in his left side abdomen. He gripped himself as he saw his own blood covering his hands. His legs gave away from underneath him as the bullet, fired from Monica's gun caught him and he dropped to the floor. His eyes caught Monica's. The motion of Monica's gun dropping by his side followed by the heavy foot print of a boot belonging too, the so called 'ghost' he saw out the corner of his eye as it made it's way past him.

He couldn't move for being in so much agony and he couldn't feel his legs, actually he couldn't feel his body. Everything around him seemed to be moving in a very slow motion. His eyes rolled as he tried to keep them open, he didn't want the darkness to take over.

The last thing he remembered was seeing Monica run away and he managed to mutter "You…bitch…", loud enough only for him to hear as Monica didn't seem much interested in him right now. She was of saving her own skin. He was pretty sure Monica was having a ball seeing him revel at the sight of him in desperate need of help. Though he was pretty sure he wasn't going to ask her for it, before his eyes closed and no apparent physical signs to suggest he was alive either.

Going straight to her office she closed and locked the door behind her. Monica closed the blinds around the windows too and turned off the light. She slumped down in her chair and began to cry. Once she got the crying out the system she wiped her tears, counted to five and took a deep breath, she needed to come up with a plan. She hadn't meant to kill Charlie, she was intending to shoot the robot. The gun would have all her prints over it and it didn't help that everyone knew Charlie and herself had a mutual dislike towards one another. She would have been easily accused, her job would be on the line, and everything the de Souza name stood for would be scraped.

Her plan was to go back down to the scene and retrieve the gun, but when she had gone to look people were already checking out the commotion and had found the weapon. The ghost was nowhere to be seen and this caused her to panic even more when she saw one of the medics that was examining the body pick up the gun and place it in an evidence bag. She rushed back to her office once more, mostly for some thinking time, she knew she didn't have much on her side. She made her way to the morgue and picked out an Ex One worker that looked like her. Her name was Lucy and she had shot herself for an unknown reason, it had disfigured her face that much people couldn't recognize who she was.

'Perfect' thought Monica.

She then laid out a trolley, placed the body on top of it and made it look like she was taking it to the kitchens, covering it with spare towels, cutlery, cups and plates, making sure no one could see the body underneath. She pushed it all the way down to where the scene had taken place and shot Charlie by mistake. The people that were there just a few minutes ago had left and Monica worked fast to dump the body a few yards away from Charlie where nobody had thought of looking yet. She placed her name tag around the dead woman's neck and placed her ID card into the back pocket of her trousers. "I'm sorry" she muttered then looked over at Charlie. "I'm really sorry"

With that she got up and ran out, continuing to take the trolley to the kitchens. There was some commotion about the Ghostshift lasting longer then meant to. Once she had delivered the trolley, she ran all the way back to her office, grabbed her car keys and made for the manor where she lived with her sister and parents. She wrote a little letter for her sister and parents when they got in and placed it on the bedside table, addressed to the family. Quickly packing a suitcase, she got everything she needed and then picked up her passport. Her sister – Lady Christina de Souza had walked in on her and asked what she was playing at and where she thought she was going. For her sister safety Monica didn't tell her what happened nor where she was going, or that she just faked her own death. Monica asked Christina to get something out the vault for her and she did. Once Christina was inside, Monica had locked the vault from the outside, making it so that her sister couldn't get out. It was for her own safety "I'm truly am so, so sorry" She said and headed out, not before catching the remaining news that had been on the TV. It seemed that the activity with the Ghost's had hit headline news already.

* * *

**GHOST REPORT BREAKING NEWS**Here, in London, it seems that One Canada Square has been cornered of and is the main activity for the Ghosts. Two bodies have already been rushed to the Royal Albion Hospital. Inside spokeswoman say the highly respected business man Charles Lewis is one of the bodies and that the highly respected De Souza family member Monica is the other.

**Let us know of your sightings! Text, call or email us.**

**BBC****One 12pm,****7pm****daily. GHOSTWATCH UPDATE -****BBC****Three 23:15. Follow us on Twitter and Facebook.**

Lets tune back into EastEnders, is it really Den Watts that Peggy just told to get out of her pub? This is Alistair Appleton reporting for BBC One's Ghostwatch, thank you, be safe and goodnight. 

* * *

Monica turned of the television, shutting the door behind her and disappeared...


	2. The End Is Where We Start From

**22nd July 2007** Next Morning Newspaper

**Headline:** TRAGEDY AT ONE CANADA SQUARE.

The morning after the night before and London along with the rest of the world looks like a ghost town. Everyone is dealing with yesterday's situation in different ways, but none other then Christina De Souza who lost not just her parents but her sister in the battle between two unearthly creatures and they say robots are the feature. If that was the future then god help us all. Others may argue that the death of the De Souza's would leave Christina a very wealthy woman. No comment as been made by Christina or any of the families spokes people at this stage regarding the situation. A private funeral will take place next week for family and close friends.

Elsewhere, it was confirmed that business man Charles Lewis was shot once in the chest and survived. When people found his body he was heavily unconscious, almost coma state but it's seems he is making a slow but surly recovery. His body was found near to Monica De Souza's. It's said that this was a case of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The metal men known as Cybermen said to have been behind the attack, no further forensic examination will take place, identification were found on both the bodies. No further details at this present time seeing as Mr. Lewis doesn't remember anything about the attack. Or so he says. Although Doctors, treating Charlie are confident that he will make a full recovery and added on his currently condition: "It's quite easy to suffer from amnesia after the incident he went through yesterday, but we are confident his memory will return in the near future"

A spokeswoman from One Canada Square, where it said that the Canary Wharf building was the main place for all events around the world told us today "That we are very sorry for the losses, we were testing a new drug in the water supply causing mass hallucinations world wide. We thought we had it under control but unfortunately it left devastation in its wake and we can assure you it won't happen again. Cybermen aren't real, Daleks aren't real, ghosts aren't real"

* * *

**9 Months Later after the Battle of Canary Wharf – April 2008**

"Give me one good reason why I should stop screaming" Owen yelled over the com link connected to Torchwood Three's Hub at the top of his voice as the doors to the nuclear power plant slammed shut. The systems were about to go critical and the main override had issued a lockdown, he was trapped and was about to get flooded was radiation.

"Because you are breaking my heart" Toshiko whispered and Owen had automatically calmed himself down at her words. Although he was unaware of Toshiko lying in a pool of her own blood and was fighting for her life also.

Owen had blamed everyone till that point, Jack, Ianto, Gwen. Where were they when he needed them the most. Were they just going to sit back and watch the dead man, die again? Little did he admit, he needed them all more then they probably needed him and it wasn't till that moment before death he realized it. He was a crushed man, he didn't want to die like this, he collapsed against the wall and muttered "Sorry" to himself, loud enough for Toshiko to hear it over the coms, it was also meant for her. Toshiko was giving him words of comfort and little did he know he was giving them back. He told her not to worry as he watched the nuclear screens, which told him the radiation was filtering through. He was ready, this time more then ever to face that darkness that waited for him ahead. Ironically, there was a bright light due to the amount of nuclear active radiation and he closed his eyes welcoming the end…

"The End Is Where We Start From…"

* * *

This really hadn't been the plan, you would think after centuries of peace in this culture that there would be no more lying and deceit, well this really proved it all to be different didn't it. Instead of going to a thermal transfer conference on the moon of Altra, she had found herself plummeting instead centuries back in time only to be dropped none other then on Twenty First Century Earth.

The moment the rift tore open in the ceiling and Sanguaze fell landing gracefully on the battered concrete flooring below she knew there was trouble. Despite the mastery they had retained over the centuries, there was still one thing they could never seem to stop. The Rift had a tendency to drop people in places that had significant importance. In this instance it seemed to be a deadlocked room of a nuclear plant, which of course, was flooded with enough radiation to kill any normal human in an instance. Sanguaze however, was not an ordinary human. Clad in what seemed to be like a swat like uniform of the 21st century she wore camouflaged cargo pants, a black thick strapped tank top, heavy leather army boots that went half way to her knees, while her body was littered with straps, pockets and weaponry clearly not from this era.

Now if she was correct her recent arrival would set of huge rift activity warning at Torchwood III, Cardiff [ oh yes she was very well versed in human history], so she had little time to act, however, there was something that caught her attention as she turned towards the deadlocked doorway. There was a single pile of ash, near the fried console; it seemed some poor soul had been trapped in here when the nuclear reactor went. Pausing, a canister was drawn from a back pocket of her pants as the ashes were swept up into it, and the container was tucked back where it had come from. She would spread the ashes over Cardiff Bay when she had the opportunity for no soul deserved to stay in such a place such as this forever. There was however, a lingering emotion hanging in the air here, something she assumed the victim had been feeling before they had been atomized, grief.

* * *

Jack left Ianto and Gwen in the Main Hub area after they had said goodbye to Owen and Toshiko on the computer system. He was half tempted to send them home and he wouldn't object to them wanting too, but he presumed they would want to stick together after the day they've had. Tears teased his eyes as he listened to Toshiko's last words on the system but he knew he had to stay strong for the other two colleagues. Jack had gotten used to these sorts of things as he was accustomed to outliving a lot of people. Too many people perhaps, one point in his life he wanted to know why. He though that the Doctor. His Doctor would have those answers for him. Yet he was wrong, as his Doctor could not fix him but he did admit it was nice seeing him again even if he had to die several more hundred times to make things right again. In fact it's what he did these days, make things right again as Jack wanted to do something rather than just sit around rotting - he prayed he would never age as that would be a disaster- he frowned at the idea. Lately he was doing a lot of thinking and very little sleeping. In fact he hardly did catch shut eye and when he did he tended to have nightmares of his past. The very past to which he was trying to place behind him because it hurt.

He sat at his desk finishing off some paper work for the last case that was on the verge of being closed, locked up like everything else in the archives. Running a hand though his hair he wasn't really concentrating on the paper work at hand. No, he was staring at the empty coffee mug on his desk and thinking about Ianto who was his coffee savoir as well as a lot of other things. Shaking his head, Jack disregarded the dirty thoughts and decided it was time for him to take a break. He grabbed his greatcoat and walked out into the main Hub. It was quiet but then again it was a Sunday night and the grief emotions that still stun in the air. It was, at that moment when all seemed dull and ordinary that rift activator began to beep. A long cotangent graph that was continuous shifted beyond the charts. Jack ran over to the computer and messed around with it for a while before realizing where it was coming from. Toshiko was good at this sort of thing; he wished she was here right now. Yet she wasn't, right so this time it was just gonna have to be him. Good old Jack and mind he was old, a lot older than he looked, and one could tell by his eyes just how old he was.

Taking a quick glance around The Hub, he darted out of the invisible lift and took the SUV to the location that was blinking in blue on his vortex manipulator (space hopper as the Doctor called it). Jack walked into the building that was marked with the highest amount of rift energy. This could be anything, anything in the book. His gun was held in his hands as he etched his way up the rusty stair case. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He should be dead right now so many times dead, yet here he was Captain Jack Harkness still going on and leading Torchwood Three in the name of his Doctor, the Doctor. He felt saddened as he realized this was the place Owen had… he wasn't going to think of that… For a while he continued on like this determined to sneak up on whatever it was that was the source to the disturbance of the energy. Whatever it was he was going to find it. Plus this is what he called a party, too bad it lacked Glen Miller's "In the Mood." As many times as he heard that song he couldn't help but to smile.

Now he stood in the dark corridor and edged his way down it. At the end there was no bright white light but a blond haired woman. His gun was pointed at her as she might not be human, she could be anything. Anything at all. "Don't move or I'll shoot. Your surrounded." He lied with a straight face, he needed to buy himself sometime yet he couldn't help to notice that she was hot. Jack edged closer. "Now tell me who you are and what you want?"

Her arm and neck was now starting to burn as she ran hand over radiation burns that where slowly appearing on her for-arms, it was now time to get out of here. Stepping towards the lead enforced doors, her eyes shut as she pushed her hands outward towards the doorways and started to strain as the metal twisted and bulged under her mental strain. It was only moments before the door cracked in half and exploded outward that she sensed another presence plummeting down the hallway towards her location, a human. Catapulting out of the now unconfined space she could feel the radiation spreading out from its confinements into the hallway, and she looked up to see a shadowed figure a few meters from her apparently unharmed by the radiation.

She could hear his heart beating furiously in his chest, veins and capillaries pumping blood viciously to and from his heart allowing his muscles to move and quick rates, as she stood in an un-naturally relaxed posture despite his approach. She saw his physical features along time before he did with her, along with the gun clenched tightly between both hands held just below eye level with its barrel facing directly towards her chest. Typical twenty first century human, point guns first use diplomacy second, not that it worried her one bit.

Bullets you see are quite obsolete in the seventy first century unless you used a genetic tranquilizer which was the only –solid- form of ammunition used in that era. Even then the firearms vest that every temple graduated student of Tyglan wore when going on diplomatic missions [since war had been eliminated for over a century] would stop most of the high-tech weaponry of the seventy first century and without question eradicate 21st century gun bullets.

Raising an eyebrow as he finally caught sight of her, a smirk tugged on the corner of her mouth curling it upwards as she crossed her arms over her chest. Captain Jack Harkness. Exactly like the holo-chrons present him, She guessed that ancient earth history module did do her some use after all. Allowing herself the smug satisfaction of rolling her eyes in a clearly bemused fashion, she stepped forward despite his commands to stay where she was. Watching his muscles tense and his finger tighten around the trigger just remotely following her movements. Oh this really was too easy, as her face hardened at his words of being surrounded. She supposed the history books were right about that one too, he was defiantly full of tacky catchphrases and glamorous attempts at lying to the enemy as a distraction.

"Oh really Captain Jack Harkness, now we both know that's just not true." She said loosely as she seemed to glide with a predatorily nature towards where he was standing close to one of the walls. She could smell the adrenaline and sweat that laced his body, as his eyes seemed to burn into her own, gun pointed openly towards her chest as she closed in and stopped just a foot or so from him. Slowly she raised her hands, palms facing out in a peaceful gesture showing though she was armed too the teeth with gadgets, none where currently clasped in either of her hands. Analyzing his face for a brief second, she seemed to pause, opening her mouth to speak before her arm swung out from in-front of her suddenly grasping the muzzle of the revolver in Jacks hand and snapped it towards the wall beside him loosing the gun from his grasp. Not waiting for a reaction her other arm reached for his shoulder attempting to shove him roughly face first up against the buildings wall before letting a droll hiss drip from her mouth near his closest ear.

Damn, he hated when the people that were against him were attractive. Then again he found a lot of things attractive and would shag just about anything. Okay he would not shag a few number of people and things, like the Master after that year that never was he didn't think he would dare to shag a person of that nature. Or a Dalek and a lot of other ill willed creatures; maybe shagging just about anything was an over statement. But his heart was pounding in his chest and he couldn't help to notice that his grip around his gun. This was not good practice, he knew good practice he was there in World War Two and led a team - he tried not to remember those things. It was both comforting and gave him nightmares. Though Jack was from the fifty first Century he acted more like a twentieth century gentleman and dressed like one too. So what if he was a little old fashioned? Didn't people like old fashioned these days?

Jack arched an eye brow as she smirked. It seemed to be getting harder and harder not to want to ask her out. Who wouldn't? She was hot, and blonde. He had a weakness for blonds; especially hot blonds with guns. What in the world was she thinking? Did she think he was hot? Jack couldn't help himself when it came to beauty he just got obsessed and when started couldn't seem to stop really. Same with flirting, it just sort of came out. However he did have a tough side, he had to it was his job. It always was, even when he was coning with John. Those days were over and he hoped after Toshiko and Owen died that he would never have to see that face again.

Then it hit him as this place looked somewhat familiar. It was the thought of Owen that triggered it. Wasn't this the place that Owen died? His heart sunk and eyes filled with emotion. Here yet again he should have died from the radiation; from this place She shouldn't, Jack tensed and focused on the target. He should have died a long time ago when that Dalek exterminated him. Yet thanks to Rose he was still somehow here. According to the Doctor it wasn't natural and Jack somehow had to agree with him as it wasn't. In fact this wasn't natural as that woman should be dead due to the high amounts to radiation too. Then again this was Torchwood and out of the ordinary appeared to be the definition of things that they dealt with.

How does she know his name? That's a new one. Did she work for the Time Agency back home? No, he would remember a face like hers. He kind of like this, different yet exciting. Alright Jacky boy lets spice this up. Let's get the real party started.

"The one and only," He said when she mentioned his name, which was also a lie as he stole the name, but that Jack was a man he honoured. "I didn't clarify myself. You're surrounded… by radiation, and therefore you should be dead right now. Me on the other hand— I can't seem to die." Was that a lame pick up line? Jack didn't think so but he was determined to figure out who this blonde beauty was and why she was here. His blue eyes locked in hers and she moved. "I told you not to move." His finger was on the trigger. He said he would shoot if she did, but her hands were already taking the gun from his. Jack let her; he let his guard down and let her take his harms away from him. Jack was about to knock her down to buy himself time to receive his revolver but she was too fast. The captain was distracted and found himself up against the wall. "Got anymore tricks up your sleeve?

"Rule number one, never point a gun at me if you don't mean it. Rule number two, never point a gun at me unless you want me to dish it right back up your ass. Rule number three, never underestimate blonds." Though she really was tempted to smack him for showing cheek, she begrudgingly released him stepping back, popping the bullets out of the rotating cylinder of his revolver before offering it back to him empty and placing the ammunition in one of her back pockets of her pants. Waiting for him to catch his breath and turn to face her she ran a hand over her arm, scratching what was now slowly appearing to become a small but progressing radiation burn. Though she was highly resistant to doses of radiation that would atomize a normal human, it wasn't something that could be held at bay forever. She was about to speak, but seemed to hesitate as the power in the building started to short circuit, as the radiation was progressing in dematerializing anything it uncounted including unfortunately her holographic contacts, which flickered twice before switching off revealing her un-natural emerald colored eyes rather then what had appeared to be brown.

"I am Sanguaze Masagzu from the seventy first century, and I would like to go home, unfortunately that is not possible because of this century's lack of progress in rift technology. Though I know you would just love to stay and chat, the lethal amounts of radiation that are leaking from this building are going to make the supports crack any second and you and I will both be under no less than 20 feet of rubble unless we high-tail it out of here." With that as her final set of words she took off at a quick lope towards the exit, as cement dust started to crumble and topple from the ceiling around her. She wasn't bothering to look back over her shoulder, nor listen for the steady breathing or weight of male footsteps behind her. He could survive a ton of cement falling on top of his head, she however could not. Hitting the fresh air she tripped on the door frame toppling forward, before crashing through the rusted railing of the stair case and plummeted two stories towards the pavement below. For an ordinary person that would have been the end, but as her feet touched the ground she simply crouched following gravities motion with a cat like gesture before rising to wipe the dust from her face. It was only a few moments later that she heard the monstrous crash of part of the building's roof collapsing in on itself as she turned towards the black van which parked close to the staircase before hopping up on the hood of the car to wait, her dusty hands leaving smudges in their wakes.

Smirking slightly Jack found himself in love with this woman. He loved a lot of people and usually didn't mean much of anything. Well with Ianto it meant something. For the record he did have a gun up his ass - long story and he didn't use a gun for nothing, he did mean it. As for blondes he couldn't help himself. He always wanted a little extra. Holding his breath for a moment he thought for a moment or two. This was not the worse situation he'd been in. Jack has seen a lot of things though his life and this was normal for him. He enjoyed a little action, especially if it ended up being rewarding later on. It got him thinking, while he was shoved against a wall of a dirty idea to pass by Ianto later. This reminded him that he still owed him that dinner date with the movie. Jack made a quick mental note to give him a call later.

At first he didn't move he waited for a few brief seconds before taking his unarmed gun back, placing it in his holder. He eyed her sort of turned on by her impertinence. Jack watched her for a while. Her eyes changed in colour from brown to green. Jack wondered whether he liked her with the brown or green ones better. She was defiantly alien or genetically mutated. Honestly he wasn't sure. But he liked playing the guessing game. It reminded him a bit of the days travelling around with the Doctor. Never really knowing where they would end up. She spoke again answering some of his infinite questions which danced around his head.

Feisty, she was both direct and to the point. He liked it, he really liked it. Right he now needed a plan to get them out of here without losing her while still maintaining order and getting her to the Hub. That was the goal, as for the plan he had nothing. Nothing at all seemed to come to mind. He was blank and decided to go with the flow of things. Of course she had to make a run for it after they just got acquainted and he dashed out behind her. Jack was on her tail, well close to it. He dived after her and as he fell two stories to the pavement the building behind him began to fall down with the rubble. Now that sort of fall would kill somebody, not Jack as he couldn't die. Everything in his body stopped and then minutes later he inhaled a deep breath of fresh air wondering why he was still alive. He always wondered that. Helping himself up and brushing off his coat he smiled. "Care to go for a ride with me back to HQ? I have a few questions to ask."

It only took a moment before she saw his body hit the ground two floors where he had been with a sickening crack, and if he hadn't been who she knew he was, she would have been over there like a shot but instead she just laxly hopped off the hood of the SUV and walked with no rush towards his body.

Crouching down, she ran a finger over his chin, tilting his face towards hers before letting out a deep sigh. Bouncing on the balls of her heels as she waited crouched beside his body, waiting for that ever condemning gasp of life re-entering his body. It was something that had always fascinated her, for her kind was both cursed and gifted with the ability to someone what understand death and what the gates that lead two and fro that point and life. Jack was a unique case, and that continued to generate a static curiosity of how it worked, what did his soul do when it pasted the gates, what command brought him back, time and time again?

Her thoughts would be put on hold then however, for on cue Jacks body jolted as a sharp gasp came peeling from his lips as oxygen entered his lungs and he sat up rigidly. Watching him stand, she looked at him for a moment from her position near the ground before standing to her full height, she really wasn't to much shorter then him, four inches at the most, so a level eye contact wasn't to hard to manage. It was always the same routine it seemed, good cop, bad cop, typical twenty first century movie plot line.

"Do I have any choice?" She said with voice that was tainted with the obvious knowledge that if she true opposed it she wouldn't be here right now and rather quite a few blocks from him while he had been recovering on the ground. And with that she turned from him, brushing loose hair from her face as she made her way towards the passenger seat of the SUV and rested her hand on the door handle. It opened. He really should learn to lock his van she grinned inwardly before swinging the door open and dropping herself into the seat with an exasperated plop, coating the leather seats in dust and mortar pellets. It didn't take long for him to catch up, and soon Jack had the SUV moving away from the crumbling building and out towards town.


	3. Animal Instinct

Brown eyes stared blankly at the street, not paying attention as people and places came and went, he was on a mission. His calves ached with the build up of lactic acid that came with running and power-walking across the city. His car had run out of petrol on the other side of Splott which meant he'd had to abandon it and walk the rest of the way. He'd stumbled around like a zombie, but a determined one. The dark circles under his eyes and the drawn look on his features at the moment matched the image the un-dead quiet well. When the outside world looked at Mickey Smith these days, all they saw was an over-worked, tired-looking man who looked like he was surviving purely on energy drinks and takeout from the local London chippy. And you know what? That's pretty much the right analysis.

Don't you go blaming Torchwood! He loved the job, always had. The parallel world had changed him. He was no longer scared by aliens and the like, well, most of the time. He'd hardened, and he was a better man for it. The tin dog had well and truly evolved into a fighter that was mighty useful with a gun in each hand. That's why he'd got the job at Canary Wharf, though of course it helped when your friends were the hiring committee. It wasn't pity though, no-one saw him as weak anymore. He wasn't the coward clinging to Rose's leg anymore. He stood beside her, just as brave and self-sacrificing as she was. And so Torchwood was the perfect job in which to showcase this new version of himself. He still marvelled at the fact that he got paid to play with computers, chase aliens and wield really cool guns. The team was great too, all of them. He'd gotten to know Pete and Jackie better on the parallel world, he'd even forgiven Jackie for all the abuse she'd given him when Rose had gone missing. Sarah Jane and Martha were fair and the kid Luke was so clever. They all got along, and he loved them all, but there was no doubt about it. Mickey was here for Rose.

He'd been falling apart without her. No, that wasn't it. He'd coped without Rose so many times before, when The Doctor had taken her away, when he'd chosen to live on a completely different world. He hadn't been the same without her, but he'd always coped. This was different. This was worry. He had no idea where she was and neither did anyone else. She wasn't with The Doctor this time, he was sure of that. It wasn't one of her schemes either, she'd have called to the let the team know she was ok. No, something had got her against her will, holding her trapped somewhere so she couldn't come back to them. And he couldn't do anything about it. That's what was tearing him apart.

They'd been searching for months but they were just drawing blanks. One by one the team had stopped doing all-nighters at the Centre. Sarah-Jane, Martha and Pete had all dropped back one by one, and other jobs started creeping into the schedule. It was like they'd all given up. But not Mickey. He'd lived at his desk since she'd gone missing, searching endlessly for snippets of information, anything that might have indicated where Rose had been taken. But now he was at the end of his tether, and his wits. There wasn't much else he could do, but he didn't want to stop. He couldn't stop. But then he'd realised that there was one last thing he could do.

The team had decided as a whole that contacting Torchwood Three would be a last resort. It had been a pride thing, they'd wanted to prove they could do something on their own, under their own steam and recovering a member of their team shouldn't have been a problem. But it was so much more than a problem. This was life and death. He'd torn out of London about four hours ago, knowing that he hadn't got much time before Martha came back to the Centre and made him 'think things through'. That was wasting time. Instead he'd left her a short essay that would pop up on her computer and left. He'd known he'd got only a short amount of time to disobey Martha without her coming after him. He didn't think she'd mind really, if he explained the situation and how he felt, she'd probably tell him to go. But he just couldn't have waited.

* * *

Eyeing Sanguaze, he didn't give much of a response to her question about having a choice or not about going back to Torchwood. Of course she had to, it was protocol and he just liked being a gentleman before using more harsh methods. Naturally he knew all sorts of methods; firstly he's been around a long time, secondly when he was trained how to do those sorts of things, his back catalogue of old trick. He preferred not too but sometimes a captain's gotta do what a captain's gotta do. Jack wondered why she even bothered asking him such a primitive question that she should know the answer to. Sighing he walked over to the driver side of the SUV, opened the door, and hopped in. Jack never locked it, he never had the time—it was usually Ianto who took care of those sorts of things. He would take the car, park it, lock it, even take it to the carwash. In fact Jack was really happy he had Ianto as he was so good at his job. No, he was more than good at his job he was fantastic at his job and that no questions were ever asked.

Pulling the keys out from his pocket he stuck them in the admission and started up the car. He put on his seatbelt and pushed on the accelerator. Sometimes Jack was a bit of an aggressive driver. He wouldn't admit it, but he flew a space craft better than he drove a car, mind he was exceptionally good at speed driving. They drove away from the building and into the heart of Cardiff. It was his current home, which had a lot to do with The Doctor as he thought he would run into him again if he stayed near the rift. As Cardiff sat right on top of it and the TARDIS needed to refuel every so often so it seemed like a good enough place to find him. In fact he did in the end; find his Doctor only again to come back to his lovely team he selected here at Torchwood Three. His thoughts drifted as he drove down the road.

She hadn't said a word after she had gotten into the vehicle, and instead leaned her head against the SUV window as she gazed out at the different sights and sounds of this Century. It was apparent she wasn't day-dreaming, but rather taking in everything she saw, squeezing it all for what it was worth as critical knowledge, and tactical information she needed to possess. She hadn't really noticed the fact that Jack's driving skills were less then safe according to the driving safety's act, until she sat bolt upright and yelled, causing the SUV to swerve and stop with a sudden jerk.

"STOP THE SUV!" Swinging herself out with almost too much haste, she winced slightly as she heard the seat-belt rip around her chest as she left from the car, just another thing she was going to have to explain to him… She would deal with it later she mused as she started away from the SUV and down the street. She could hear him coming after her, as she yelled at him without turning her back towards him as she continued down the street at a quickened pace.

The words echoed in his mind before he swerved the SUV to the side of the road and hit the brakes. "What!" he asked – or rather half shouted at her- as he didn't know what was going on exactly. Before he could revive an answer, a response anything she had gotten out of the car and was rushing away from him. "Damn," he whispered. He couldn't just leave the SUV here because he knew it would result in a dissatisfied Ianto if he wrecked it and a parking ticket, secondly he needed a plan. Like why did she make a run for it when he was only getting to know her, and moreover it wasn't like he was harassing her or anything, he was just doing his job. He drove following her for a while and what she said next really surprised him.

"Be a doll, and get some something to drink… I need to…check something out" Surprisingly his footsteps seemed to stop, as her attention was averted towards a man who had just entered a walk in clinic down the street, not realizing that Jack had probably just doubled back and was following her at a further away distance. This stranger had been the soul reason for her reaction earlier on, for she had picked up a malicious and intended emotion coming from him as they passed him by in the SUV, and out of instinct had acted.

"Sure thing sweet heart." He found himself replying to her when she asked him to get her something to drink! Of course he wasn't going to go get himself drunk like he would have done sixty years ago during the war and all but he was hoping a nice causal classic flirt might just do the trick to get her back into the SUV. It didn't work. She was off again so Jack hit the pedal and found a spot to leave the car which happened to be right in front of a quaint little café. Little did he know that inside was a bag full of trouble just waiting to happen.

Jumping out of the SUV he sighted and began to follow in her footsteps in the general direction to which she headed. He was right on her tail just when of all things a clearly drunken driver came speeding down the road and happened to hit him. His body lolled around the road like road kill; of course Jack was not dead; no he was so very much alive. It was not his day or night at all. This was the second time he 'died' that day. His body lied still after a while of rolling along the road. Again he breathed in deep, oxygen coming back from nothingness. Only to find someone looking down at him, not looking to happy. . . .

* * *

Suddenly something woke him from his inner daydream. He'd walked straight into a crowd and had banged into someone as they craned their necks to look at something in the road. "Sorry" Mickey apologised without thinking, his mind was buzzing with so many other things that his attention was still not fully on the situation around him. It was the old-Mickey curiosity that caused him to look through the bodies and at the subject of the furore. His eyes widened and his body somehow regained enough strength to weave his way through the crowd and stand with Jack at his feet. Just the man he needed, if not quite in the best state in the world. Still, it wouldn't take long for him to come around, he could wait.

"That's Captain Cheesecake that is." He couldn't help but smile as he thought of the last time he'd used that phrase. They'd fought the daleks together, pushing their immobilized alien forms across the floor as easily as if they'd had skates attached to their undersides. In a split second he realised he was smiling at what was essentially a dead body to the crowd and put his face straight. "And don't worry, he's not dead. He's just... winded."

* * *

Walking into the clinic moments later she looked around anxiously, everything seemed normal, and yet she couldn't see the man who had only walked in moments before her. Suddenly Sanguaze saw him, he had just been escorted down the hallway into an examining room to wait to see the walk in doctor on duty, which triggered another emotional hit and she looked around hastily for a distraction.

Grabbing the closest medical coat she could find she quickly skirted by the receptionist heading towards the assessment room, only to hear the click of a hand gun behind her. Turning slowly she found herself faced by the gunman she had followed earlier, as he directed her to stand in the lobby with everyone else as startled screams of alarm rose from inside the clinic. One of the staff hit the alarm that would bring the police in the vicinity running towards him, causing the gunman to remove his attention from Sanguaze and turn his gun towards the staff member who had set off the alarm, that's all the time she needed. Sending an uppercut towards his arm which held the gun, she brought her knee up into his chest causing him to double over as she snatched the gun from his hand flinging it across the room as the sending out a loud shot that could no doubt be heard from outside. She was just about to haul him out of the building when he rasped words of a bomb planted in the back room, causing her to then instead nail him between the shoulders dropping him to the floor as she rushed towards the back of the clinic.

* * *

Mickey's eyes didn't look up from Jack's body as it lay twisted on the pavement. That's not to say he wasn't listening out for any response from the crowd and especially the two people standing closest to him - the red haired kid and the poor guy who'd had his car wrecked. He felt the crowd craning their necks over each other to see more of the apparent tragedy, human nature really was a pain when it came to keeping things secret. As part of the operation he guessed he should be using his authority to disperse the crowd and avoid any unnecessary calls being made to the emergency services. Trouble was, he didn't have much authority in him. The Doctor did, Rose and Martha did, and Jack certainly did, but Mickey didn't. He was used to following orders, not giving them and it didn't feel right butting in on Jack's branch of Torchwood - really it was nothing to do with him. Was it?

Looking around Jack wished that he wasn't still alive it wasn't right but the thought of some of the people that he loved and cared about kept him going. He felt a kick in his side and Jack winced slightly. "If you're trying to come on to me it's not working, Mind, you are cute. Captain Jack Harkness by the way and you are?" Jack always flirted in the wrong sort of situations. He didn't know he totalled this guy's car or who he was for that matter. "It's a good thing too, cus if I was dead. . . . you wouldn't have the pleasure of meeting me."

Then he noticed the police, the random crowd of worried looking people and well what do you know Mickey Smith. The rest of his team wasn't there and as for the blondie she was nowhere in sight. Fantastic, just fantastic; mind the man who kicked him was rather on the cute side. As long as he got his quick flirt he couldn't be happier. So it wasn't half bad. Jack offered him a light grin, showing off his whites. He knew a lot of things, he lived long enough and seen enough horrible things in his life time that he could get to a person if he had too. Nobody wanted to be on Jack's bad side. Not ever.

Jack grinned, good old Mickey Smith. "Well if it isn't Mickey Mouse." He too thought of that memory, it was nice he got to see Rose Tyler again, as well as some new and old friends. Like Sarah Jane Smith and Jackie Tyler. Jack wasn't too surprised when he met Rose's mum, he could see where Rose received her impertinence. They saved the universe again, some team. Defenders of the Earth, fighting aliens in the twenty first century, like he said the twenty first century is when it all changes and Torchwood would always be ready. He said the same thing in the twentieth and the nineteenth century too. Torchwood Three would make his Doctor proud; Jack just needed some more time perfecting it up. It needed a whole makeover to impress him; but Jack had time on his hands and did not mind putting some work into it. He would do anything to please the Doctor.

Rising from the street he brushed off his coat for the second time that evening. Ianto was sure going to give him a yelling for ruining the coat that he just dry-cleaned. The thought of Ianto made him think about where everyone was. Gwen was with Rhys wherever they ran off too, he couldn't blame them Gwen dissevered a happy life. Then there was Ianto who usually was around, but he didn't bother him this time, why? Simply because he felt like he over worked the lad and he could use a break. That and Ianto made the world's best coffee. Jack would miss him when his time came, he really would. It was a depressing thought that he would have to outlive everyone that he loved. Would he get wrinkles? He certainly hoped not as he cared a bit too much over his appearance. Yet the two deaths he went though today was nothing as when he came back to Earth to hunt for his Doctor he died a lot more in a day, as well as the time he spent during the year that never was. Jack shook the thoughts away from his head as he had a situation to deal with here.

Mickey's loose train of thought was interrupted by a sudden stir in Jack's body. Just as Mickey predicted, it didn't take the Captain long to compose himself enough to answer the earlier taunt in the way he knew that he would. Mickey couldn't help but form a smile over his features, it was great to see Jack again, it was like old times. All the memories flashed through his mind like a flip-book, a really supernatural, surreal flip-book. Only four people in the entire universe could evoke that reaction in the mind of Mickey Smith - Jack, The Doctor, Martha and Rose. Rose. She was the priority. He needed to talk to Jack, an impossibility now when it seemed like the whole world was watching. Instead, he kept quiet, watching absent-mindedly as the Captain rose from the road, dusting himself off like he'd simply tripped. Mickey wondered what the crowd was thinking, what they thought about the 'dead man' getting back up with the only damage being to his great grey coat. It didn't seem to bother Jack, though this could have been because he had Ianto to cover up everything for him.

* * *

"Everyone get out now!" She yelled as she vanished into the back of the building. It wasn't hard to find, it was a primitive bomb, something you could make by reading something off the internet, but it was rapidly counting down. Snatching it up hastily, her heart seemed to stop as she moved towards an emergency exit and out into the back alley it connected too. Kicking open a man hole she threw it down into its depths before leaping away towards the building as the alleyway shook with a vicious explosion. Coughing loudly she could smell the acidic smell of smoke, as part of the building had caught fire, as she hauled herself from the floor and stumbled towards the front entrance of the clinic. She could hear the emergency sirens now and the police taping off the area to avoid other citizens coming in.

Just then she saw the gunman who she had left lying on the floor jump up, and at the site of her run towards the door. Dashing after him, he landed a punch to her chest which made her wince but only caused her to tighten her grip on his arm. It only took a moment but her feral instincts had kicked in and she found herself flipping the man over her shoulder sending him with a loud smash through the glass window of the clinic onto the pavement outside. Breathing heavily she, hopped out through the now smashed window, hauling the man to his feet as police officers rushed in to apprehend him, telling her to halt as well. Just as she knew she was going to have a bit of an issue explaining her actions, a familiar face seemed to be moving towards the scene with an un-hesitated haste… Well she guessed it was a good thing she had run into Jack after all, he'd bail her, she knew too much he didn't.

* * *

In reality he should be dead at the current moment. Jack should have died twice that evening, he defied science. Yet it didn't matter as he left the conversation with Mickey in mid air to only discover blondie over here appeared to be behind something. She too was not moving they seemed to look at one another before the flame of the building let out carbon dioxide into the air. Jack had a feeling it was going to be a long night. He had a lot of unanswered questions. Like what was she doing here in the middle of the crime scene, who was she really, why she was here, why the rift was acting up, where was she from, who she worked for. . . . so many questions danced around his head but he had to get them out of here. First back to HQ where he could interrogate her properly. It was his job, it was Torchwood. They were outside the authorities and dealt with many strange things. Like Weevils, aliens, people falling through time, and a bunch of random space junk that showed up from who's knows where. It was his life, the life he chose and yet he was satisfied with it because he found out he couldn't be helped, he would live forever it seemed.

* * *

"Put your hands in the air and don't move"

Every fiber of her was ready to instinctively render the officer who had barked the remark at her disarmed flat on his face on the ground, but really, it wouldn't help her situation. They were just doing their jobs, not that it made her any happier about it. Dropping her eyes to avoid showing her un-natural eye colour, she raised her hands slowly upwards with her palms facing the officer, as she caught sight of Jacks approach through the crowd with her peripheral vision. Lowering her hands she stole a very quick glace to her left to see that the officers had now cuffed the gunman and now were hauling him off towards an armoured vehicle across the street before turning her back from the crowd to stare at the clinic which was slowly being engulfed in flame. Sanguaze could sense Jack was now behind her, and by the sound of his footfalls and tone of voice he wasn't exactly thrilled at her involvement. Not that he knew what had even happened, and if it hadn't been for her Cardiff would be missing a good half city block instead of just a burning building and blown up sewer line.

There was Jack cue. A gun shot or some sort of explosion could be heard in the distance. He reached into his pocket and was about to pull out his revolver when he realized he didn't have any more bullets thanks to Sanguaze. Where was she anyways? If she had anything to do with this Jack would not be happy at all. He ran in the direction of the sound and pushed against the police. "Torchwood, move it!" Everyone was rushing into the building and Jack followed and stopped dead in his tracks. There she was. "You've caused enough trouble for one day missy." He told her pointing a finger at her. "You're coming back to The Hub with me, right now." With this he moved to grab her, yet he found himself just standing there as if he had forgotten about something but shook his head and dragged Sanguaze away from any kind of police officer or authority persons.

* * *

What the hell was that?! Mickey's head spun towards the source of the noise, which sounded suspiciously like a large explosion. Wow, everything was all go in Cardiff wasn't it? Still paying attention to the building, it was the rush of air past him that told him that Jack had already gone to exterminate the problem. That wasn't right! He'd found his man and lost him again so quickly. That's not how he'd pictured the reunion in his head. He needed Jack focused, un-distracted and on the ball, right now he was chasing after a quarry that Mickey hadn't a clue about, but it sure as hell wasn't Rose and that wasn't good enough! His mind fuzzed over with confusion, his decision making was about as tactical as sticking a pin randomly in a book's page, which is why he came up with nothing. And so Mickey just stood there, just another member of the crowd, with about as much of a clue about what was going on as the rest of them. He'd been left again, Jack obviously thought him too stupid to call in on the mission. Tin dog syndrome was rearing its ugly head again and he didn't like it one bit.

* * *

Sanguaze could feel Jack's eyes burning into the back of her neck at those words left his mouth about going back to The Hub with him, though there seemed to be a small lurking tone of concern… not much but it was there. Then he froze as he reached for her, and in one shattering moment, the building they had both been staring at erupted with a mighty blast, sending a wave of heat towards all the on lookers. Now normally under any other situation, a big blast of anything wouldn't even faze her, but this was different. Sanguaze was terrified of fire. It was one weakness that had been implanted in her animal instincts from day one and the only reason she hadn't panicked in the building earlier on was the amount of adrenaline that had been rushing through her veins at the time.

In a sudden moment she jumped a good foot up and back, crashing right back into Jack in very un-fluid manner sucking in a startled breath in doing so. Flinching at the contact of her back against his chest, she seemed to be hypnotized by the flames as sirens started wailing around her. Shuddering her eyes dilated to golden cat like slits, before she seemed to snap back to reality as they vanished back into her startled green eyes and she jumped sharply away from his contact. Fumbling with a pocket she quickly withdrew a pair of sunglasses, which unlike normal ones seemed to be painted pitch black. No normal human could see out of these, however, Sanguaze wasn't human, and this way it prevented anyone from seeing her un-natural eye colour, especially the media crew which had seemingly just arrived.

Her back fell upon his chest and he felt like just wrapping his arms around her like she was a parcel about to be wrapped with a bow. Yet he didn't there was no need for comfort or flirtation at a moment when he had to appear like a man in authority as he was representing Torchwood and Torchwood was not too look mushy to the public's eye. In private they were a lovely bunch of people caring and held complicated love relationships as did life. They were people just like everybody else and would die, all but Jack. However, right now was not the time for depressing thoughts such as death. He had a job and a duty. Jack just found himself nodding in response as she was right. This was not the time for an interrogation; it had to wait till they were in private out of the way from the crowed streets. He followed her pushing out of the crowds expressionless as he was wearing his Torchwood mask.

"Let's just go. We can talk about it in a bit." She blurted out in a quite un-nerved fashion before pushing her way out through the throng of people towards the SUV parked a few yards away. She could hear his footsteps behind her as she moved at a slightly quickened pace, taking an extra loop around another crowd to avoid the TV cameras which seemed to be trying to get through the police blockades out towards them. Finally she drew to a halt as she rounded one side of the SUV and yanked the door open before seating herself down in the passenger seat. Groaning she reached behind her, nabbing a black blanket from underneath the seat as she heard shouts and a thump coming from the drivers side of the SUV. Normally she would have hopped out to help dismiss which was obviously a scuffle between Jack and a rouge on-looker, but she frankly couldn't afford to attract anymore attention. Instead, she settled on wrapping the blanket around her head and shoulders, tucking her head down low, revealing little if nothing distinguishable about her to any on-lookers as she waited for Jack to get into the SUV and start driving.

* * *

Mickey watched the happenings silently, disenchanted with the whole experience. After the initial joy at finding Jack earlier than expected, he was now feeling the slump. He barely heard the men on his flanks asking questions that he knew the answer to, even if he couldn't tell them so. It was almost like nothing would snap him out of his sombre daydream. But then something did just that. Mickey raised himself onto his tip-toes as he strained to get a closer look at the scene that was unfolding outside the burning building. It seemed Jack had found his quarry, a slim blonde wearing sunglasses. A funny sort of threat if you asked this Londoner, but if there was one thing he'd learnt on the Torchwood team it was that appearances were deceptive. Plus, there was a reason why orange flames were licking the windows of a Cardiff structure. Perhaps she was it. Suddenly Mickey woke up to the fact that he might just be able to save Jack a retcon tablet. "I'll see you later Jack, I'll finish up here. You know, sort out the coppers for you and that."

* * *

Jack couldn't make it into the SUV; he just hoped Sanguaze wouldn't drive off without him as she slipped through hiis grip, making some sort of luxurious get-a-way that you would see in the big screen. He looked towards the SUV, Jack really wasn't in the mood. Not right now. "Look I don't have the time for this right now." He said to the journalist with TV cameras and to Mickey he offered a nod of thanks. There really wasn't much for him to tell Mickey. "Well you know where to find me; I won't be dying anytime soon." He said to Mickey with a wave and got into the car. Turing the ignition he drove off. He looked over at Sanguaze thinking for a moment. Then he smiled thinking about one thing or another.


	4. Good Cop, Bad Cop

Rhys never understood Gwen's great devotion towards her job at Torchwood, no matter how many times she embellished stories of near death counters by cherry topping the recounts with the same old 'but we may have saved the world once again'. Well, never exactly in those words. As long as Gwen had been working for Jack and with his crew, they had never succeeded to stop any large scale insanity, but who was she to complain? What, did she need to be reminded of how her life was like before Torchwood? No, she was otherwise grateful that her life wasn't always at the gear of maximum intensity. If so her entire life would be even more fragile than before and the stability she still possessed that the team was once jealous of, would probably shatter.

But Gwen still treated this as a duty; it was more than just any old nine to five, especially since Torchwood ran later hours. She had seen some incredible things, mostly terrifying, but with everything Torchwood has done, they have kept the world a safe place from forces beyond common understanding. How many people could tell that to their grandchildren when they're sixty four?

So it was no surprise, though she was happily married and had her oh so stable little life, that she still came in early for work. About half the time she would arrive Ianto would already be present, and most of the time, Jack was about but somehow just...not. The man was a magician sometimes with his little disappearing acts. It drove Gwen up a wall when he wasn't around; she felt several times more secure in his presence. Something about his eyes that just shows his infinite experience, even though well, he obviously can't be older than forty (at least). When she arrived however, she didn't spy Jack anywhere in sight, or Ianto. The place was as silent as the grave aside from the sound of her own breathing. The few times she entered like this she always followed the same routine. She dropped her bag on to her chair, sparing that usual sad glance at Toshiko's old spot, and then made her way to the coffee machine so that she could 'adequately' prepare herself for whatever came through the door.

* * *

Sanguaze wouldn't admit it even to herself, but she was tired. Tired, and maybe a little shell shocked from the fires explosion. She had blacked out soon as she had hit the car seat. Though she would say she had been just resting her eyes and no doubt if that had been the case she would have woken up at the first moment of trouble, it was a lie. Even the most conditioned people met exhaustion. Despite this she snapped upright from her bent over state as soon as the SUV pulled to a stop near the Millennium Center.

It didn't take her long to haul her ass out of the SUV, with the black blanket still wrapped around her shoulders as she walked robotically behind Jack with a rare blind obedience, as if something was mechanically moving her limbs, but in fact she was just thinking. Thinking about way to many things. How she'd gotten here, everyone she had lost, the mysterious pile of human ash at the nuclear plant when she fell through, the bomb threat, and ironically running into Jack. Well not really ironic considering she was alien and he ran Torchwood III, but still. That's a lot to deal with within a few hours of "crash-landing" so to speak in Cardiff City, twenty first century.

She showed no reaction to the ground dropping beneath her, the paneling in the sidewalk seemed to lower itself on mechanical hinges down into the bowls of Cardiff Bay, and into the main headquarters of Torchwood III. Sighing quite loudly, she stepped off the ledge half way down blanket billowing out like a cape and she landed with a soft plop onto the walk way below, before loosing her balance ungracefully and sitting down on her ass quite roughly. Knowing this would probably provoke an un-dignified snort, she pulled herself up with as much decency she could muster in her state, brushing the cement dust off the back of her pants before folding up the blanket and hanging it on the railing overlooking the central area of The Hub.

* * *

Clearing things up with the cops had taken ages, as it usually did. It seemed that the Police in Cardiff were just the same as those in London, albeit with different accents. They were clueless, completely clueless. Of course Mickey couldn't rip them too much, he used to be the same way. Just a few years ago he'd been like any other mug, heck, the biggest connection he'd got to other worlds was the job of running Clive's old conspiracy site. It had been Rose who had opened his eyes. The Doctor had opened hers and she'd come straight back to the Powell Estate to enlighten him. Ok, so that wasn't strictly true, she'd kept him hanging for a year before coming back, but she still did come back and that was something right? All those things that had happened to him over the past few years, travelling with The Doctor, living on the parallel world and coming back, it had all helped to change him into someone stronger and a lot more open-minded. But nothing in his past had quite prepared him for Torchwood. He knew things that were unknown to the Prime Minister, the Pentagon and the UN. It was all way over their heads, which meant that the local bobby hadn't a hope in hell of being anything other than clueless, to be fair.

And Mickey was fair. He'd sought out the Chief Inspector and spoken to him man to man. Of course it had taken a little explaining, but there was a limit to what he could say. Still, he felt he needed to elaborate a little on a flash of his Torchwood One ID badge. The Inspector knew of Jack, which didn't bode well really, so he'd decided on a little clean up operation. As far as the cops knew now, there'd been a slight blip with the detention of a criminal but Torchwood was dealing with everything. Of course he'd gotten a sarcastic comment from the Policeman, something along the lines of 'Yeah, yeah that's all you lot ever say - "we're dealing with it"'. Mickey ignored it, preferring instead to choose that moment to thank the officer and leave. A quick glance behind him at the torched building and who's who of emergency services, and he continued on his way towards the Roald Dahl Plass.

* * *

Making his way to the office and sitting a midst the clutter on his desk, the Captain was digging though his drawers to find a clean file folder to start up a file for her. Standard Torchwood protocol, he had all sorts of files piled upon his desk. It was a part of his share of the job as acting leader of Torchwood Three. However, his desk was a wreck. Sometime he was seriously going to ask Ianto to help him clean it up and organize it with him. Shaking his head he dug though his draws finally to pull out an empty file folder. His hand searched for a form and began filling out what he knew. Which wasn't much; he clicked the pen and put it upon his desk with a sigh. Jack needed more information in order to have anything at all in the file. It was bland, too bland and it looked like the integration was going to have to happen after all. The thought made him smile. She was hot, and it seemed he had a weakness for blonds. No more it seemed that he could keep his hands away from her, he needed to see her again and get her talking. No matter what it took Captain Jack Harkness would get her to say what he wanted to hear and maybe a little extra.

Rising from his seat Jack looked around his office one last time before refueling his revolver; you know just in case something happened. Of course this was last resort as the Doctor taught him to hold off on the violence; mind it didn't stop him as it was what he knew. He was in the war and saw things - his friend being tortured before his eyes and he could do nothing about it. Guns were a necessity and he had to use them. After another glance about the office Jack walked out and headed out to find Sanguaze. Now she was in his responsibility and was going to answer his questions whether it ended up being the hard way, or the easy way. He could only hope she would cooperate with him, yet he somehow knew it wasn't going to turn out like that. It never worked out like that; it never seemed to go to plan. If it did, a lot of people wouldn't be dead right now. Jack took the blame for Owen and Tosh's deaths. He did, they were his team under his leadership; thus his causalities. He could only hope that Gwen and Ianto wouldn't die like that. What really scared him was that one day he would out live all of them.

He walked out of his office wondering if Gwen or Ianto showed up to work. It wasn't that he cared one way or the other as he sort of lived in The Hub but it was nice to have them around. His footsteps were heavy on the floor, they echoed with each step. Right now he had to find Sanguaze so he could ask her his questions. The first thing on his mind was why she was here in the first place and her intentions with Earth. That was the foremost of utter importance as Torchwood held a responsibility of protecting the Earth as the Doctor wasn't exactly reliable. Jack had an answer to his first question of the basic why - as Cardiff was on the rift and it brought things to them. Like alien artifacts, aliens, beings from other times – all sorts of things, he just had a hunch there was a lot more to her side of the story which is why he wanted to integrate her. Well actually what he really wanted to do was snog her. Typical Jack response: snog and shag anything that was shagable. Not that he would he had to be attracted to it, like a mouth to the flame. Jack wasn't too picky on who or what it was just as long as they had good intentions in the world.

There she was leaning against the wall. An angelic thing that was so vital to the touch; she turned him on. He could just envision himself walking up to her and - OKAY let's not go there. Jack's little world in his head is a very graphic place. For a while he just watched her silently just looking at her. She was something else, yes that's how he would describe her; simply something else other worldly. Not exactly like the Doctor or an extraterrestrial other worldly for that matter but something not exactly human. But; she was just right for Jack's liking. He smiled a flirtatious smile.

Tipping backwards, Sangguaze leaned her back against the wall opposite the railing on the narrow grated platform near the stairs as she heard the lowering platform hit the ground with a thunk and the heavy weight of Jack's boots hitting ground level as he hopped off. Glowering coldly at his approach, she pulled the sunglasses off her face propping them up in her tangled blond hair revealing her sharply off colour eyes and the dark shadows under her eyes, clearly defining her stress level as quite high. She clearly wasn't in the mood to talk, and now having him standing a foot or so from her glaring down at her just waiting to fire obviously annoyed words towards her was not helping her temperament. He was invading her personal space and she didn't like it.

"Don't even start with words Jack Harkness, you don't know how hot this fire is that you're playing with and will get yourself burned if you're not careful"

"Oh? I didn't say anything. And I just love fire, a nice hot passionate fire. Besides it's not like it's gonna kill me." Jack died enough times that day and if he died one more time- let's just say his patience level was low. Jack moved closer to her. He was now basically right on top of her and he pulled her into a deep kiss.

He really didn't understand what Sanguaze meant by fire, but by his obviously lewd tone she had an instinctual feeling of what he was implying, and if it wasn't his words that gave it away, it was his eyes. Men didn't scare her, she was more then equipped to deal with any generic twenty first century human, so why did she feel like her chest had leapt right up into her throat as he stepped closer, hovering like a predator over a wounded deer. Pressing her palms flat against the back of the concrete, her eye level dropped from his gaze as she seemed to shrink back at his sudden advancement, her breath hitching sharply as his warm breathe made contact with her skin. She gave in.

It all happened so fast. One moment Jack was watching her and the next they were snogging. He felt her give in to him. Jack moved up closer against her slender figure and added more to the kiss. His lips connected to hers deepening the kiss making it last forever. It was what he was good at; snogging was a skill he had, if it counted as something that was. Jack liked to think it did. His palms pressed deeply into her shoulders holding her there against the cold brick wall. He wanted more than just snog her he wanted her right now. Perhaps he was taking too much advantage of her. Then again this is Jack we're talking about and that was only normal for the man who couldn't seem to ever die.

Sanguaze felt his palms pressing into the joints of her shoulders keeping her pinned firmly against the wall as her chapped lips came into contact with his in a sudden aggressive movement, and she let out an involuntary growl from the base of her throat. He may of felt dominant in their current predicament, but in no way was she submitting under his mouths onslaught without a fight in which she asserted firmly by biting down sharply on his bottom lip intending to draw blood. Breathing heavily through her nose she struggled as the intensity of the emotions between of them both set off flares in her brain, bringing back jolted memories, of her fiancé, the man she lost. Noel.

Sudden lust shattered as the adrenaline in her system went from a flight of passion to a state of vulnerability and rage, as her eyes flashed into golden like slits and she pulled her left arm from its pinned state aiming a sharp slap towards the side of his face. Not waiting for the satisfaction of a reaction she attempted to shove him roughly backwards as she turned off at a speedy lope across the catwalk, not waiting to see what had happened in doing so. She eventually calmed down, after crossing about half of The Hub in the process in silence as it appeared Jack had either decided not to follow her or he had seemingly run into a problem delaying his departure after her.

She was a feisty young thing as she growled. It didn't help much on Jack's side of the fence as it only made him want her more. He wanted to hold her there against the wall in his world forever. She bit his bottom lip making the skin open up and bleed. His tongue licked it and tried to part her lips which refused his invitation. Then the magical moment ended as he was shoved off her. One, two, three. It was all happening so fast. Time seemed meaningless right now. Everything was squished into one motion it seemed. Jack knew he would be out soon and then come back again. A part of him wished he would just die already; but that never seemed to happen. It seemed Rose Tyler cursed him that day. He felt his body moving backwards and then sliding of the railing. He was falling down, down, down. His head was spinning and then it was black. Everything was black again. Once more he died and it was thanks to Sanguaze. All thanks to her, she was only making his life a living hell it seemed and she was hot. It was always the ones that was hot that seemed to ruin his day. His body hit the floor with a loud thud. Then he was out cold. His eyes rolled back into his head and Jack laid there motionless.

Sanguaze undeceive wanderings had finally brought her to a winding staircase that lead down into a sunken autopsy theatre which seemed quite bare and abandoned then it really should have been. It was on that thought the cylinder full of ashes she had picked up earlier that day in the nuclear plant was remembered ass he drew it out of her back pocket in her pants as she descended the stairway. Surely there was no harm since she was here, to re-formulate the body of the dead to at least give whomever they were a proper burial.

* * *

After finishing a freshly brewed furthermost there was still no sign of life. Gwen sighed and put the empty container aside, deciding that perhaps being outside in the fresh air for a bit would do her well before getting to work. The cold air might help to fire up her veins. It was during this minute break that Jack must have returned with Sanguaze, because once she had also returned she thought to have heard some form of scuffle. The platform was just low enough for her to make a female darting towards the path to the Autopsy Room. Gwen's senses were quite alert enough by now, so once the platform finally stopped moving she skipped off of it and in a not-so-stealthy walk made her way over to the stairs that lead there. Someone is down there came to her mind, and she somehow instinctively knew it wasn't Jack. Her footsteps fell lightly on each step as she descended only enough to get a peek at what was going on.

* * *

Taking a few moments to orient herself with all the tools and equipment, Sanguaze pulled out an empty metal box from one of the storage shelves placing it on one of the metal counter tops as she proceeded to pull out the content of her pants pockets and dump it all into that box. Withdrawing a shiny metal instrument that shape wise looked like a bar of soap, she placed it on the counter beside her along with the container of ashes before turning her attention back to the box full of her stuff. Pulling what looked like a miniature padlock out of the box she closed the lid before sliding the lock through the clasp, making it beep loudly once before putting the box back in the supplies drawer underneath some towels. No one would get into that box since it was only able to be activated via her emotional consent, and frankly she didn't need Jack fingering through her seventy first century technology, it was her job to be responsible for her actions now that she was stuck here.

Grabbing the nearest doctor's coat off a rack, she paused slightly sensing a stale history of emotion that centered around the treatment bay, a similar feeling to the one she had picked up briefly in the nuclear plant, the reminisce of one individuals thoughts, before she pulled it on, oddly it seemed to fit her perfectly. Next, she grabbed a pair of latex gloves from box beside her, pulling them over her hands with a snap before picking up the container of ashes and spreading them on top of the diagnostics table. Hitting the bright diagnostic lights on, she reached over blindly grabbing the instrument she had set aside earlier before hitting an orange button on the console of it, as a bright violet light was shed from its tip. Leaning over the table she ran the light systematically over the ashes as before her eyes ash turned to cells as a body was slowly knitting itself back together, before a badly formed body missing chinks of skin and appendages lay in front of her. You couldn't expect her to re-create someone body fully if some of the remains were gone now could you?

The light was so close, so tangible and then he breathed oxygen. Welcome back from hell. Was this life hell? Jack wasn't too sure, then again who was these days? What was real, what was fake? It didn't seem to matter much as this was Torchwood and they dealt with all sorts of strange and bizarre things everyday. Jack smiled to himself for a few moments thinking about his team and how he pulled them together. They were a good bunch of people and did a good job. Sure they all had their ups and downs but in the end they pulled off the job which is what mattered. He could hear voices in the back of his mind. With a groan he helped himself off and ran a hand though his hair. Right, I guess that went well he thought. With that he took his gun out of his holster and edged into the pit. Down there he found some things that disturbed him. Firstly Sanguaze was hovering over a dead corpse, and then Gwen who apparently just showed up for work. With a slight sigh he put the gun away.

Not to worry though, for Sanguze had now hit a set of green buttons on her device and was running a light blue light over the incomplete areas of the body, stitching cloned cells across the gaps. Amazing things technology can do it seems. It was done. Drawing back, Sanguaze placed the instrument on the counter top before turning back to look down on a pale naked body of a man littered with scars and a bullet wound in his chest that she assumed was in his mid twenties at his time of death. Something wasn't right about this picture; no-one could have sustained this kind of damage to their body and still have been alive. Pulling a crisp white sheet out of the drawer, she pulled it across his body to conserve the dead's decency before placing her hand upon his chilled forehead and dropping her head in a sigh.

* * *

There was a blonde by the slab, working with some type of glowing object on what appeared to be...body parts? Gwen covered her mouth to suppress any sort of noise she might make. It was a pretty brilliant move considering what happened next. On the way down the steps Jack had brushed against her, which at the worst sent a huge chill down her spine. Turning around sharply she saw that it was Jack and got up to follow him down, prepared to confront this stranger with him by her side; with Jack she felt rather untouchable. Once they were down though and the strange woman had turned from the slab, Gwen's heart skipped several beats at the sight that now presented itself to her.

It was then Sanguaze realized she was being watched, as she turned her head up towards where she now saw Jack standing, with a shorte rblack haired female to his right. She knew he would probably be flabbergasted, and was obviously in a bit of shock by the colour that had seemingly drained from his face, whoever, this dead man was, he had obviously had a connection to Torchwood. Despite this, it didn't stop the temper inside her raising ferociously, her doctoral training rising to the surface in an eruptive but contained strained voice.

"I don't know who he is to you Jack, but there is something horribly wrong with this. My scans indicate this man had these wounds for several months before he died, no natural course of nature allows this. I don't know what you did to him, but you have horribly disrupted his spirit, and seemingly even when his body was desecrated you've managed to get his spirit wedge in-between life and death. Not that I expect you to understand that concept, since you can't die and won't ever fight against deaths tide."

She was shaking remotely at this point, as she pointed an accusing finger at him, completely oblivious to what Gwen was doing in response to this whole outrageous situation, before pacing away from him back towards the dead body laying like a slab of cold meat on the diagnostics table. Peeling the latex gloves off her hands she threw them with a frustration towards Jack and his counter part before turning back and leaning over the body. "What have they done to you, you poor man. No one deserves to walk this path."

"It can't be..." Gwen muttered, perhaps too low to be heard by human ears, or perhaps not. She rose a hand to her face to try and hide her shock unsuccessfully, the only thing going through her mind being several images of the man she had once felt for a deep sort of love, the man who sacrificed himself in so many ways to this sometimes wretched duty she hated and loved at the same time. Just as Sanguaze's anger had tuned Gwen's existence out, Gwen's anguish had her nearly forget why she even came down here.

"Now I have to clean up YOUR mess, because it's against my morals to let someone's spirit suffer on the pivot between life and death, but since I'm assuming this was your man I will ask out of decency for the dead and not for politeness' sake. What is his name? Who was he to you, and do I have your consent to give him one last choice between life and death. No I won't explain, nor will you find out unless I deem you worthy to know my species secrets, just tell me your answer."

Sanguaze's words went over Gwen's head, nothing but white noise. Hand still partly covering her face, Gwen's gaze slowly pulled away from the slab and to Jack, but still every split second a peek was stolen by the former. There was no chance that she would be able to answer the stranger's questions at this point, besides, Jack was here. Let her let this just...sink in for a moment. Her mind was still having a hard time processing it.

"Well excuse me Princess, but I think you're the one here playing with fire that shouldn't be tempered with. His name is Owen Harper, Doctor Owen Harper. He was our old medic, until he died during a mission." Jack told her in his professional voice which was colder than his earlier flirtatious one. He wasn't playing the good cop bad cop, things happen at Torchwood and they had to move on from it, whether they liked it or not. He was not in a mood to play nice right now. His permission to do what? Jack looked at Gwen for a moment. Right now he wasn't exactly sure what to think. He hesitated for a moment. "Permission granted, but if you do anything to Owen I will make sure to make your time here a living hell. Understand?"

She just had to bring up Owen didn't she? He had a feeling it was going to be a longer day than what he expected it to be. And where in the world was Ianto? Sure the team was small but he needed him here right now if he needed the Welshman at all. Great just great, she's building a bigger mess than what he need to work with. Unveiling old feelings with pain that was already grieved upon. She has no idea what she is meddling with. Folding his arms Jack didn't look too pleased at her.

* * *

If Mickey knew his way around Cardiff better, he'd have made sure that he'd kept to the back-streets, careful to avoid crowds for fear that someone would notice his face from the scene of the explosion. Well, not fear exactly, he wasn't afraid, but it was more that he didn't want the hassle, not now. He'd been so close to Jack, so close to asking for help and then the Captain had to go and get himself killed again. It had taken the conversation slightly off topic and Jack had also slipped by too. Which meant he was now looking for the Captain, just as he had been hours and hours ago.

His main street route was a long one, seemingly made longer by the knowledge that he probably could have taken a dozen shortcuts if he'd have known them. He cursed his stupid car for packing in, though he knew it was his own fault. He had been too busy to stop for petrol! He'd have to mention his car to Jack later, perhaps he could send someone to Splott to fetch it. Mickey didn't like the thought of leaving it there, it didn't look the nicest area - and he was from the Powell Estate, so he should know about... erm...colourful areas of town. If someone broke into his car, they could find all sorts, there were two alien guns in the boot for starters, and all that paperwork, classified stuff. He needed to get someone to sort it out, now.

His pace quickened, his feet now less of a shuffle and animated more into a powerwalk. His eyes scanned the shop windows that he passed, squinting to see if any of them would be any use. Nothing. Not unless he wanted a bakewell tart or half a pint of milk. And then something else caught his eye, a library. That might help. They'd got to have local tow-truck company information, hadn't they? He'd not been in a library since he was about six - if you were seen going into a library on his estate you'd be lucky to come out with all your limbs intact. The bully gangs around the Powell Estate certainly had been very anti-literacy. Deciding that he might as well give it ago, seeing as Jack may still be busy, Mickey walked up the grand steps of the Cardiff Central Library and pushed the heavy wooden doors to let himself inside.

Looking around in a masquerade of calm, Mickey spied the front desk and began to walk slowly towards it. He didn't like this place. Not after what Martha had told him of the Vasha Nerada. Even though she had never been anywhere near them, her story had been vivid enough to give him the shivers. Rational thinking told him that no such flesh ripping little monsters lived in Cardiff Central, but that didn't stop the place from feeling eerie. Of course it didn't help that the place was dead quiet and barely had a soul within her. The only area where a few people seemed to have congregated was at the desk Mickey was heading for - typical. At least the queue was only six persons deep. There was a girl at a table clutching a book that he was sure she wasn't really reading properly, and another woman flicking casually through brochures at the counter.

Keeping his eyes firmly to himself, Mickey took his place in the line, still managing to attempt some level of nonchalance, however difficult that was for him. He'd never been cool, calm and collected, and probably never would be, but Torchwood training was helping. He'd never be able to act like Jack did in these kind of situations, but he could now hold his own in a way that he never could before. This ability came with knowledge, with experience, and with not being petrified of anything out of the ordinary any more. It came with knowing he'd got his Torchwood badge in the pocket of his jacket, together with a scrap of salvaged physic paper that Martha had allowed him to take away from base in 'emergencies'. It came with knowing that in the chest holster strapped to his torso, there was a standard Torchwood gun. Not that he'd have to use it, not in the middle of Cardiff Central Library, but still, it was nice to have insurance, don't you think?

Mickey's guess is that he just isn't perceptive enough, something proved by the fact that he didn't even notice the arrival of another two people into the practically empty library. The first Mickey knew of other human beings in the vicinity was the dull clunk of a laptop hitting the carpet, a sound accompanied by the obligatory swear. Of course, this event was enough to make his attention shift, and his eyes were now focused on the girl bending to retrieve her laptop. He got to the front of the counter "Hi, I ran out a petrol a few streets away and well I need some information about local tow truck companies you have to offer…"


	5. Die Another Day

Sanguaze stood still rather then turn at Jack response as she ran a hand over the dead medics for-head. Things were more complicated then she had stated, in fact, Jack really didn't know what he had done when he had permanently raised Owen from the dead. There was a large chance that Sanguaze wouldn't come out of this living or breathing for death was something that didn't like to be trifled with.

So that's your name. Owen, to be born of good blood or noble. Well Owen, we'll soon find out if you are indeed noble won't we. Pulling her hand from his pale complexion she turned, looking Jack evenly in the eye before walking past him reaching for a metal stool sitting in the corner. Picking it up with one hand, she dragged it noisily with a sickening grate against the floor before putting it down beside the autopsy table. Moving in front of the object, she sat down, leaning against the back in a testing gesture before rotating in her seat to face Jack and Gwen,

"It is CRITICAL you do not touch either of us or attempt to wake me during this process, any interruption no matter what happens could kill me in an instant."

Why am I even doing this. I don't know these people, the history books sure can give me statistics but no assurances. Right because it's my duty to clean up everyone's messes it seems. She thought to herself

Turning from them she scooted the stool straight up to the autopsy table, rolling her neck to the side once before placing both of her hands on the sheet white temples of the man called Owen Harper. Her eyes shut with a snap as she inhaled deeply, though visibly she didn't look like she was doing much, her mind was reeling, reaching out with waspishly grasping for the small trail of a trapped soul within the physical body she was now touching. Then one moment she was sitting upright the next her body tipped forward with a jolt collapsing face first on top of Owen's dead body with her hands still pressed against his temples. Then it started.

What the hell was she talking about? What the hell?! Jack watched her dumb stuck. Owen was one of his men. One of his very own and she was messing around with his corpse. Later Jack was defiantly going to get somethings straightened out. Like whom the hell was she really and what in the world was she doing here. The why, like he noted earlier was the rift, the other questions that boiled in his mind were un-answered. Who was she to order him around. This was his building, his team, his independent branch of Torchwood (here fused to be associated with the other branches after what they did, his branch was in the Doctor's name), and most importantly Owen was on his team whether he was dead or alive. Now legally he wasn't anymore because Ianto deleted the records since he died; but that didn't stop Jack from considering him as one of his own. Man down, as the term went when he was a Captain in the military. Man down.

That was a long time ago. Jack had nothing to do with the military for a very long time. A lot of it however stayed with him like many other things. He just didn't talk about it because just thinking about it was painful enough. Sure here and there he would say a thing or two to someone that he knew and trusted like he told Tosh a few things, he told Gwen a set of other things, Ianto other things all together, as well as the Doctor – his doctor. It was a little ironic as the one man – well Time Lord, alien or whatever you wanted to call him—couldn't make him better. Forever Jack wouldn't be able to be like Owen there on the table and die. No he would live on forever it seemed.

Unlike Owen or any manor woman or a creature for that matter Jack didn't understand the whole big deal about death. He didn't get to see a white light, or a dark river of the dead. All he saw was darkness, and then there was a breath of air, and hello dolly. The flirting fest began once more, and played on like the orchestra on the Titanic. The show must go on as others put it, as did Jack. Jack Harkness, Captain Jack Harkness must go on seeking an encore from his audience of life. The show of life sucked, and Jack had to keep playing the same acts over and over again rather like a repeated recorded. You know what? It got dull expect for the loving.

* * *

Entering death was always a bit terrifying; one could never fully remove the instinct of fear, for life is still flowing through your veins as you enter it. Oh yes, there was a lot more to death, though most people went from start to finish very quickly, however, for a few, the current wasn't quite so strong. Sanguaze physical body had been shed when she had entered a state of unconscious; however, her mind formulated her body as an image in death which also meant that anything that happened in death could directly impact her physical body on the outside. So when she hit the water in death's churning river, her body back in the Torchwood facility was immediately drenched in frigid water.

See to her kind, death was perceived as a vast dark forest, with a mighty river that went through the heart of it, before dropping off the edge of a thundering waterfall into the final cavern of death. Anyone who entered death was deposited in said river, and depending on how strong their spirit was, would wash them at an undetermined speed to their final resting place, over the edge of the roaring falls. Despite Sanguaze being a fit and healthy individual the temperature of the water stunned her momentarily, loosing her footing and dragging her rapidly towards the edge of the fall. Luckily, it didn't take her long to recover as she scrabbled towards the bank of the river, hauling herself from its grasp up onto the dead grass of the pitch forest in front of her.

Panting, she took a moment to catch her breath as she stood up, her clothes dripping with icy water as she let out a set of involuntary shivers as she made her way along the bank of the river towards the edge of the falls. He would be there, she could sense his presence, but he however, would not sense her. Then she finally spotted his body, frozen to the spot like a block of ice in the middle of the river on the edge of the falls, unable to fall but unable to move backwards towards life.

Great. Always has to be right on the edge of the fall, couldn't have gotten stuck farther back. She thought

The darkness. That's it. That's all there had been. No pearly white gates and no St. Peter welcoming Owen in with open arms. Not like he'd never really believed in that sort of stuff, but he'd thought they'd be...something. But no. Just emptiness. This time it was worse, he knew exactly what was going on. When he'd died on that day at Pharm, it had all happened too quickly. The last thing he remembered was Jack's face sliding out of focus and there being blackness, that was it. The pain had stopped, and he was left in the hell of endless limbo. But this time, on that fateful night, as Cardiff was being ripped to shreds around him, everything had seemed to happen in slow motion.

His anger had burned inside him, overthrowing any reason that might have defied the odds by clinging his disenchanted being for so long. He'd shouted and yelled, banging walls and pacing up and down. His bandaged fingers had run through his hair and pulled down at his face, distorting his features. His agony had poured out in anguished screams, his deep hazel eyes clearly both frustrated and absolutely terrified. Then he'd asked that question, that selfish question born out a life-time of being self-centered and spiteful. But he had a right to be angry! He was dying, again, about to fall inside the black pit of oblivion that he'd thought he'd escaped. Owen Harper was sentenced to watch his own body rot from the outside in, and the fact that he wouldn't feel a thing just twisted the knife. He was losing everything for a second time. Why shouldn't he keep screaming?!

Gingerly, Sanguaze placed a foot into the water and immediately felt its pull against her, threatening to unbalance her body and send her tumbling face first into the dark depths of the fall. There was no way of reaching him without jumping straight in, which she knew would lead to a 75% of her falling to her doom. That was her only choice. Taking a few paces back she sized up the difference before running full speed towards the edge and kicked her feet up as she leapt from the bank landing just behind Owen's still form in the river. Gasping, she grasped his legs, as the falls roared behind her, clawing desperately at her frame in hopes of loosening her grip, she knew, this moment was critical, if his body removed itself from its trance like state she would only have a mater of seconds to pull his body clear and to the edge of the bank before the both went over. If it didn't, she would have to take the risk of tiring when swimming back to the bank. Neither was appealing.

His body collapsed moments later under her touch, as she grasped him under the arms and struggled towards the shore. She had almost reached it as she felt the sudden pit of fear in her stomach as her body ran out of water and hit air. She fell. Grasping upwards she failed for about two seconds before her hand grasped an out-jetting rock stopping her fall with a sudden jerk, threatening to pull Owen's body out of her one handed grip. Crying out painfully under the weight, her body broke out in a sweat [both here and back in her physical body] as she heaved her body upwards planting her knee where her hand had been, her other hand digging into the dirt of the ledge before with one last anguished yell she toppled over the top onto dry land, dead body and all.

Gasping for air, she dragged herself and Owen's limp body away from the river at numb pace, before laying his body up against a near by tree and dropping to her knees beside him in exhaustion. He wouldn't have noticed anything except perhaps in his deep subconscious a sudden jerk when she had loosed him from the stalled threat of falling into the final stage of death. Leaning over him, she placed one hand on his temple and the other over his chest, before he convulsed under her touch, jerking forward against her grip. He would be conscious of nothing more then his feelings and thoughts and perhaps the nagging feeling someone was there with him.

"Owen Harper. You can't see me, and will be unable to respond back but I am here. This will probably be the only time I will speak to you as this next task will involve another risk and will end up with me probably dead on your medical bay floor. Life hasn't finished with you, and unfairly placed your soul in a state off lux, my laws do not allow me to let one suffer in such ways. I give you life."

It was then that he received the answer that had changed everything. Her words were almost muffled beyond recognition, and yet they were so crystal clear. They cut through Owen, right through his anger, right through all thoughts of himself and how the world continued to batter him down. He'd collapsed against a wall, his face fallen and his voice suddenly low and serious as Toshiko Sato had told him his fate over his earpiece. Together they talked about the past, about lost opportunities. His final words were ones he believed to be of comfort to his colleague, his friend, his Tosh.

He'd been horrible to her, nasty, mean, vile. He'd picked on her for being her brilliant self. She'd been on the receiving end of his little performances. That day when she'd come to his flat to help him, and all he'd done was scream at her, put her down and run. He couldn't even claim to have been ignorant of her feelings. Perhaps at the beginning he had, but her confessions had been so clear. He remembered each one. But he'd taken no notice, deciding instead to take his hold over her for granted. There was no doubt about it, he'd used her, not caring one iota for her feelings. And you know what? In death, in the sickening pit of darkness and nothing else - he was sorry.

Sanguaze knew he would probably hear her words, but in his state would have no way of responding to her. Taking a deep breath she seemed to start to glow as it seemed to steadily flow from her body into his. His eyes would open soon, his body would rematerialize before his soul's "eyes" and he would see her as his vision became sharper she would fade before his eyes. She took everything his walking death had given him.

"Good bye Owen Harper"

What was that?! A whoosh of air swept past Owen, and again, and again, turning back towards him like a hawk attacking a lure. His body tingled all over, hang on a minute, his body?! Looking down he saw his hands materialising in front of him, the particles knitting together before his eyes, and he had those now too! What on earth was going on? Then it clicked. Jack was bringing him back. The bastard. He'd told him never to do it again! That man never would listen! Clenching his newly reclaimed fists, Owen dug his fingernails deeply into his palms in frustration. It hurt. Oh my god, it hurt! Releasing his grip on himself, he surveyed his hands. Blood trickled down from the cuts in his skin. Blood! Falling to his knees onto an invisible floor, he breathed deeply, feeling the air hitting his lungs. He was alive.

It was pulling him, an unseen force. His entire body felt as though it was being submitted to too many G forces to count. This wasn't how it felt last time. He couldn't hear Jack calling his name, asking him to find him. There were no names, no call. Just him, falling, falling, falling, until he hit something that felt exactly like the familiar cold tile surface of the autopsy room floor. His body twitched before unfolding from it's curled, almost fatal position. Owen blinked, for the first time in an age, trying to focus his newly reclaimed eyes on the scene around him. He saw Jack... and Gwen, staring down at him with untold expressions adorning their faces. Then he realized something. He was lying there completely naked. No wonder he was cold! His hands grasped at the thin sheet that was draped over his body, arranging it to better hide what needed to be hidden. Carefully, and with his new bones creaking, he sat up, tying the white material around his waist in a knot at the side. Brilliant. First day back in the land of the living and he was wearing a skirt.

Jolting awake, Sanguaze sat up in a sudden movement, her eyes registering unbelievable pain as lines of red bled across her back and shoulder - Owen's weevil injuries. Though he would still be scared she had absorbed his injuries completely, and now they were breaking through the boundary between life and death, cutting up her physical body. Stumbling forward, she let out a sharp gasp as she leaned over Owen's body, her skin turning chard and black under extensive radiation burns as her eyes watered painfully. She saw him stir once, before she dropped to her knees, blood pouring from her chest at an unchecked rate soaking her clothing and the floor that she hit moments later. All Owen would have to remember of his life in walking death would be a faint scar over his chest, and the memories.

"There you go, one living breathing Owen Harper" She croaked out painfully, rolling into a ball in her own blood, shivering from the hypothermia that had set into her soaked body and the utter traumatic pain her body was now starting to seize at. Then her heart seemed to give out, and she flat lined, head hitting the cement with a dull smack. Even for one who had an extensive immune system, a bullet wound embedded in her chest wasn't something she could survive without complete luck. Luck didn't seem to be on her side today.

Then Owen saw her. He'd had no recollection of her talking to him, and certainly no memory of her risking her own life to save his, but he remembered her. Something about her looked familiar, and it wasn't because he'd met her in a bar, it was much deeper than that. He wasn't blind, he saw her in a pool of her own blood with burns and wounds visible through her clothes. But he didn't react, not straight away. His mind was busy whirring with all the sights, sounds and smells that he'd been without for so long. Every new piece of information that reached his brain, hit him like a slap in the face, and fora while, he was nothing but dazed. Then he realized what he was looking at, the same situation he'd found himself in hundreds of times before. The doctor was faced with a dying patient. His job was to save her.

The medial training kicked in as he appeared at her side in a fluid moment, kneeling with his bare legs bathed in her blood. His hands roamed her body professionally, loosening her clothes, pulling down her eyelids to check her pupils, listening at her mouth for sounds of breathing, checking the colour of her gums for blood loss. Speaking of blood, he was covered in the stuff and so was she. His hands positioned themselves over her biggest wound, on her chest, and began to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. This was no good, he needed swabs, drugs and some serious help.

* * *

Jack had zoned out. He didn't notice Owen coming back to life, Sanguaze going into a cardiac arrest, or anything. His mind was elsewhere, lost in a swirling sea of neurological signals. He would have taken order if he was witnessing these things but somehow the events that were laid out before him caused him to wander back into his youth. Back and back and further back into the jungle of his torn mind. Deep into the lost forgotten memories of his younger years when he saw things, terrible things and lost some important people. Like his brother Gray who was sitting in storage, or his best friend who died before his bluish-gray eyes.

"Oh come on, you know you can tell me anything. So who is it? Who's the lucky gal this time?" he said. His face was beaming almost radiant.

Jack shook his head at the boy who he was sitting across from him. "There isn't anybody." He told him with the slightest face he could pull.

"Oh sure there is, I can read you like a book. Come on then spill the beans." He paused. "Is it Emily?"

"No, it's not Em. . . .it's John."

The boy smiled seeming satisfied that he could get Jack to talk.

The memory faded and then changed into another one.

"Please stop, please just stop this." Tears were in his eyes, he tried to turn away but he couldn't they were making him watch. "Take me, just take me."

A voice chucked, "Now why would we want to do that. Clearly this is affecting you."

Then a deeper one cut in, "Besides, we're trying to teach you a lesson 'ere."

The body became limp. The screaming stopped. Jack cheek's held tears. He said nothing as he knew just as well as the men—if they be men—that his friend was dead. It was over all of the jokes between them about men, women, whoever their love life consisted of was gone complete at an end. Jack couldn't go on anymore, yet he decided that he had to stay strong for his friend. He would stay strong for him. He couldn't let them see the tears in his eyes. Jack just couldn't let them see or know that he was hurt by their actions.

Everything came in a whooshing blur, the icy hands of death sliding up Sanguaze sides and unlike the first time today her arrival into the deep dark waters of death was smooth and calm. There was no fight, no struggle and certainly no spark of life left in her body at this point. You could almost say she was happy, in a twisted sort of way. Sanguaze had been through so much in her life time, walked in death too many times, and lost, had lost everything that had any iota of meaning to her existence. It was her time to die.

She would finally see her parents again, her peers who had died in the mass murder of the city temple and Noel. Dear Noel, the man who had courted her for a steady twenty five years of her life before she had accepted his proposal to become united, but then he died. At this point her life had been shattered to many times and any ambition that she had contained seemed to die that night the fire broke out when she was away on a business trip.

So this was the end, she could hear the roar of the falls thundering through the water as sound waves hitting her submerged ears but it didn't fill her with dread, instead it seemed to calm her as she exhaled deeply, her submerging to the bottom of the riverbed. "Hello sweet death, I come to you deserving and ready, my job as a vessel of the living is now over, take me into your welcoming arms."

"Come on, don't just stand there." Owen addressed Jack and Gwen without turning to face them, he was concentrating too hard on his patient. "I need sterilized swabs, painkiller... and some luck if you've got it." He stole a quick glance at the pair, "Where's Ianto and Tosh? Trust them to disappear in an emergency." He rolled his eyes and turned back to his work. "Just when I could do with another pair of hands. And while we're on the subject, Gwen, I could use you right now. Remember that applying pressure thing we talked about?" He gestured towards the body's largest wound with his head, the only part of him that seemed to be free as he worked as fast as his cloudy brain would allow.

It seemed however, life wasn't done with Sanguaze, that or someone in life was determined to drag her kicking and screaming back to life if she had wished it or not. Her body seemed to stop with a jolt pulling her form to the surface of the water with a tight snap, before it let go and she was once again drifting back towards the ever closing falls. It happened again, but this time it seemed to make her body thrash involuntarily, an invisible force dragging her sharply against the current at a slow but steady pace. She started fighting.

Grasping at the invisible force that seemed to propel her backwards from the falls, the muscles in her body began to tingle sharply as her body back in the real world pulsed back into life weakly, it wouldn't take much to put her right back to where she had been moments before, but now she was fighting for her life. She was almost there, as her arms suddenly seemed to lock up with resistance as she pushed herself, feet digging into the gravel bottom of the riverbed shoving herself up onto the bank before staggering through the edge of the forest.

There was a steady pulse in the back of Jack's mind which triggered him to come to full alertness. It beeped strong and steady as a drum. No it wasn't the drumming that heheard being tapped during the year that never was, it was something else. Something medical, was Martha Jones here? Did she try to save his dead life again when she knew he would come back? No he looked around the room. Sanguaze was lying a midst a pair of paddles. Jack had to take charge this was his domain and there he was for the past—forever how long lost to his haunted past.

Owen's right hand reached out instinctively, remembering the layout of the room in which he'd spent so much time before he died. To his right there had always been an alien-tech based machine that could calculate blood pressure, heart rate, breathing rate, oxygen efficiency and pretty much the make-up of the entire body. Today however, instead of his hand landing where it should - on the cold metal surface of the machine, it hit nothing but air. Snapping his head to where it should have been was the only way for his muddled brain to cope with the absence of the equipment. This wasn't how he'd left the place. "Someone's been tidying up my perfect chaos!" His voice managed a joking edge that he'd forgotten existed in his system. "Remind me to teach my replacement the finer points of Harper-Chic." His humor slipped slightly towards the end of his sentence, though he didn't know why. He'd been replaced before, by Martha Jones who probably did the job just as well as him. But it still burned within him, the jealousy. This job meant everything to him. There wasn't much point in him living if he couldn't rejoin the team. He tried to push thoughts of rejection to the back of his mind as he freed one of his hands from putting pressure on the wound in order to check his patient's pulse. It was hopeless without proper equipment, but he dare not take the pressure off.

His mind was a mess. Every snippet of information formed a new shard of glass that added to the barrage already slicing at his very core. Thoughts and memories banged around in his skull, occasionally smashing into one of those glass pieces and sending the splinters flying around his brain. Sharp, that was the right word for it. Everything was sharp, and painful. In death, there had been no pain. Even as the walking dead, he'd felt nothing. The nerves in his body had ceased to function, leaving him without any sensation whatsoever. He'd forgotten what pain was like, and this wasn't just pain, it was torture. A Sunday morning hangover had nothing on this, the headache from hell. It felt like someone was clawing at the inside of his brain with long talons, gauging deep holes in his grey matter that caused not only the sharp shooting pains that rocketed through his brain, but all the accompanying fuzziness that clouded any shred of reality that was left.

Owen lifted his hands again, dragging them through his hair and resting them over his eyes, shielding them. The fluorescent lighting strips were causing havoc with his vision, effectively blinding him for seconds at a time. His body was far from relaxed even though it was effectively slumped against the wall. Occasionally he'd quiver throughout his entire system, though it was impossible to tell whether this was from the cold or something more sinister. He struggled through the pain, trying desperately to arrange this thoughts into something that he could push through and emerge back in the real world. Two emotions stood out, constantly competing for his attention, confusion and anger. Confusion he needed to fight through, no-one was going to give him any answers to any questions unless he pulled himself together. Forcing his eyes to peer over his hands, Owen looked at the girl lying on the floor, surrounded by bleeping machines. At least he'd fought to help her. His subconscious had embraced the adrenaline, allowing him to fight for this stranger. And he'd really fought for her as hard as he'd ever fought for anyone in his life. He fought as hard as he'd have fought if it was one of the team lying there. No matter what they all thought of him, no matter what a pain in the ass he could be sometimes, they always knew he'd help them. If they needed him, he'd be there.

Who would be there for him?

"Gwen? Any time today sweetheart?"

Every time Owen had given the command to clear, Gwen was just as sharp as before to know what it meant as she would release her hold just long enough for the charge to pass. Her hands always fell right back on to the wound applying the same pressure as before, continuing to repeat a stream of words of encouragement for this woman's survival to be closer at hand. Whoever she was, it was she that had saved her teammate. There was no further doubt in Gwen's mind, and no matter what kind of person this stranger really was, she would always respect her for this. A shroud of relief fell over her as the last charge brought life, the beep of a steady heartbeat being recorded on the machine sounding loudest over all their panting. A quick glance to Owen and Gwen wondered if he was more human this time around, perhaps. Was he as before or was he genuinely alive again? He seemed to be taking...breaths. Did he ever stop bothering to breathe before? Her attention was quickly pulled from him as she thought upon the inappropriateness in this situation. He wasn't dying now,and Jack's escort was barely clinging on to life.

"Don't touch her, everybody move. And you." Jack pointed to Owen. "Welcome back, when Ianto comes round, if he does he'll set you back up in the system. In the meantime I want her secured to the table." As he said this Jack pulled some cuffs from his pocket, hauled her up to the table, and cuffed Sanguaze down to the autopsy table. "I can't trust her, not after everything." His lip was still bleeding but it wasn't important compared to everything else. It was secondary to everything.

A sudden dreaded thought entered his mind. Owen didn't know about Toshkio. Tosh was dead. He realized he needed a tech; he just never got around to it ."Owen you are gonna hate me for breaking the news to you like this, but someone's gotta do it and that someone is me cause I'm your boss. Now you might want to kill me after I break this to you but death isn't much of a problem with me. Toshkio died. You even died, but well here you are yet again. It seems we have something in common. We can't seem to die."

Gwen glanced up at Jack, who began to explain to the newly revived doctor the early passing of their teammate, Toshiko. Perfect timing he thought. Even though it had been some time since then, just hearing those words 'Toshiko died' left a dull pain in her chest. He was just...so terrible at imparting such sensitive information though. Because she was still putting some pressure on the larger wound while glancing about for a roll of bandages, she couldn't very well give Owen a hug or anything in support. At the same time, she didn't want to add to Jack's undertone by asking for the roll that she did find, knocked off the table and a little too far from her foot for her to drag it over, to be passed to her. Unfortunately due to the gravity of having an injury like this to deal with, she hadn't much of a choice. "I'm sorry, but someone needs to help me bandage her up." She looked to Owen apologetically. This person also had to be moved from this position. She did not wish for Sanguaze to be neglected for the briefest of seconds.

Gwen had seen way too many people die for one lifetime, and she hadn't even been a soldier on a battlefield. Every day only reminded her how such and amazing job could be so terrible all at once. There was no way she was going to let someone who could just as easily be saved be left ignored. She didn't really think they were going to neglect this stranger that much, but she didn't want Jack's breaking news tear the urgency away from Owen's first in a long time patient. Rhys may just as well give a smile to this; he complained once about how this job had changed her, and was bound to make her cold like everyone else here. She had vowed against ever letting such an influence consume her. If she had to, she didn't mind at all being 'the heart' of Torchwood, as long as it helped save lives and what was the fragile sanity she fought to protect a midst this all.

As she waited for some assistance with Sanguaze, the last words that Jack uttered stuck to her mind. Such a lie and truth, all at once. It's own little paradox. Jack had died once, for real, and she had given every ounce of her time to try and revive him, nearly failing to do so. Owen was quite dead just minutes ago; long gone and unable to return. It was very possible for both men to die, and as that thought came to mind she found herself glaring at Jack. "Don't let that get you careless," she warned, passing a quick glance at Owen for a second so he knew that he was included. "I've watched you both die. I consider it a miracle you both are about again. Don't let it get to your head." Her glare softened as her attention returned to Sanguaze, looking her over for any other wounds that would require immediate attention. For my sake, she thought to herself, as this brief exercise was to cut her off from her previous statements. She didn't want to get emotional at a time like this. They needed someone strong at this time, and so Gwen had to put on the stone mask and keep her concerns bottled up until she was off the clock. Funny thing is in Torchwood you're not even aware there is a clock to be heard of.

Owen was lying on the floor, completely frozen in place. They would be able to tell he was in pain, it was written all over his face. They knew he was confused. They knew he was frightened. Not so much as a kind word had been thrown to him. Neither of them gave a toss that he was back, especially not Jack. Had he not made an impression? Had he not saved all their asses before? Was he not worth anything to them? Sure, it was a stressful situation, sure they had things on their minds, but would it kill them to show a bit of sympathy, or to toss him a spare bloody coat?! Anger wound around his gut, pushing confusion aside and forcing a red mist to descend in place of the foggy air of his earlier daze. He began to feel his heart beating harder into his chest, his pulse quickening as he clenched his fists. His brown eyes were hard now, well, as hard as they could be while they struggled against the bright light of the autopsy room. Breathing deeply, he began fighting his pounding head, trying to regain his focus on the world. Slowly but surely it became easier to function. Then Jack opened his mouth.

Welcome back on the pay roll, tie that heavily wounded girl you revived to the table. Jack's mouth moved, and that's what Owen heard. The fire burned in his stomach, forcing him to control himself and prevent it bubbling to the surface. Gwen moaned at the entire team for being cold, but their leader was the coldest of them all. It was clear in Owen's mind that him coming back from the dead had just been another hassle for Jack, another load of paperwork for him to file. He didn't care one bit. It was also clear that he didn't care for the girl either. A weak hand was lifted in protest as Jack hauled the girl onto the table. She shouldn't have been moved! He could have just ruined everything that had just been achieved! Ordinarily, Owen's mind would been wondering what was different about this girl, piecing together bits of information that would explain Jack's aversion to her. But this was not an ordinary situation, and today he just couldn't cope with it.

There was something else he just couldn't cope with.

The words seemed to flow out of Jack's mouth. It seemed like he'd said it a million times, like he was bored of repeating himself. Owen recognized the attempt to be tactful, but his boss was about as good at that as he was. Each word stung, and there was nothing everyone could do about it. No matter when the news was broken to him, he'd have had a similar reaction. But this was ridiculously bad timing, and that just magnified every last inch of agony. He blinked through the words, his muddled brain making sense of nothing past those two words that he'd hoped he'd never have to hear in context with each other: 'Toshiko died'. In the state of shock that abruptly followed, he realized something. It was easier to be the one that died. It was easier to sit there as the blackness of death suffocated the life out of you. Much easier than feeling the loss that was now beginning to eat him up inside. Every bite was torture, and would be forever. Obviously he'll be leaving the dying for another day, for once he wasn't taking the coward way out so the team would just have to suck it up, he was staying this time round.

He was nothing but stunned for a long time. If anything he was more motionless than when fear had griped his thoughts just minutes ago. He zoned out. He didn't hear Gwen's plea, nor did he see the apologetic look that she shot didn't hear the bleep of machines or the sound of the others breathing that he'd been so attuned to not long ago. He could only feel. He felt loss, despair and anger. Owen gripped onto the anger, embracing the easier emotion to handle,the one that offered him strength rather than weakness, the one that he'd held onto all his life. The pot of fury in his stomach swelled. Then it burst.

"What?!" He rose from the floor sharply, his body and mind stronger now that it had something solid to cling to. He stood with his back against the wall, facing Jack squarely. "You killed her too?" Hit him where it hurt. Owen knew their leader felt responsible for his team,and those who died in his name were etched into his memory. A low blow was all Owen could deal with at the moment. His eyes stung with moisture as the reality of Tosh not being there started to hit him. If he didn't get out of here soon, the first tear was going to roll down his cheek. He couldn't cry in front of the others, he wouldn't.

"And fine", he gestured towards the bound girl on the table with a sharp flick of his hand, not looking back for fear that the more perceptive Gwen would see him welling up. "You don't want me to touch her, I won't fucking touch her. I'll forget about trying to save her life,shall I? When you've got yet another corpse to add to your collection it'll be no-one's fault but yours." He glared at Jack, his stare so searing that it seemed intense enough to burn right into the depths of Jack's cold soul. If only it could, he'd enjoy watching that right now. As it was, all he'd got was sarcasm. "No problem... Captain." He lifted his hand to his head, in mock salute, still obviously seething as he moved for the stairs. He'd got nowhere to go really, he didn't have a flat anymore, and he couldn't very well go out into the street with nothing on but a plastic sheet. His fuzzy brain told him to seek out a familiar place, a place he felt comfortable. In a split-second he chose the cells. Even Janet - The Weevil - would be more supportive that this team-mates right now.

He got as far as putting one hand on the stair's rail.

Harsh words but Owen needed to get them of his chest. Jack was in no mood, with that he waved his hand and walked up to his officebefore he said something he would regret late on, to write up a report as wellas make a few phone calls. Like find out where in the hell Ianto was as well as a few more for pleasure.

Sanguaze body slammed upright suddenly, the one machine she had been hooked up to earlier sending off a loud warning that her chest compression rate had just skyrocketed exponentially and was on the verge of pushing her into another arrest. There was a sickening sound of bending steel as her arms had jerked up threatening to snap the metal foundations that her arms had been cuffed to and probably would have if she had not been in her weakened state.

She had let out a loud whoosh of air from her lungs when she had first sat up in her restrained position, now finding a struggle to find the oxygen her body was craving, turning her body into a gasping mess. Her vision seemed to stay blurred to the figures visibly moving around her, as her frame began to shake unwillingly on its own, from the shock her body was going into and the amount of pain that was registering to her synapses which was off the chart and overloading her system.

Not that she had intentionally come back to life, that had been completely their doing, but of course it had to be before they had the chance to properly treat her burns and drug her up sufficiently with pain killers and sedatives and now it seemed everyone was now about to reap the agony of her going into potential arrest a second time.

Her eyes dilated into golden cat like slits without any containment displaying the amount of pain she was currently feeling as her body seemed to go ridged and she hit the back of the autopsy table with a dull thwack. She could feel her muscles starting to spasm completely out of her control, as buzz of a voice was lost to her and the figure of the man she had brought back to the land of the living was hovering over her feverishly.

"Everything is going to be alright," Gwen said, even though the chances that her words were being received were slim. It helped to keep her own sanity, and as it has been proven in a few medical cases, words of encouragement did help some recover a little faster. "Owen's a good medic. You're in great hands."

The heart rate machine blared, screaming in protest at being disconnected. A strange sound of creaking steel was heard over even such a din, which was the main reason for Owen's head turning in the direction of the table. His former patient was sat bolt upright, obviously having some difficulty in breathing. Thinking back through the sharp pains in his brain, he remembered there being no obstruction in the throat that would cause such symptoms. He was in two minds about whether to double back, but his pride was at stake. If he tried to help after he'd made a speech about leaving her alone, he'd be going back on his words. Jack would think he could not follow through threats. But then the girl's body went into convulsions, shaking the table with the intensity. All at once he was beside her again, his hands against her shoulders, trying to guide her into lying back down.

"She's fitting." He said it aloud to help himself as much as the others, though a second after he did, he expected a comment of'no shit Sherlock' from Jack's direction.

Except, this wasn't a normal fit. For a start she didn't seem to be unconscious, which was worrying in itself. Then her eyes shot open,dilating the pupils into slits that reminded him of something feline. He blinked, wiping the moisture from his red eyes so that he could better understand what was going on. This girl wasn't normal, that was for certain. Perhaps she was an alien? She at least was humanoid at least, the machine he'd hooked up to her had told him that; the machine that was now unplugged and still blaring wildly. Grabbing the equipment with his right hand, he dragged it back over,tracing his hand down the wire until he reached the end, he'd need her plugged back up again, no matter what she was. But at the end of the wire, Doctor Harper found he had a problem - the needle was missing. Dropping the broken line, his eyes searched her arm, and found what he'd expected, the needle still in her skin. Pinching her skin between thumb and index finger, Owen drew the needle out with his other hand, carefully, in case it was broken the remnants onto the metal tray, he turned to Gwen.

"I'm thinking blood tests?" His tone was generic Owen, relatively cheerful and professional, but also incorporating some surprise at the development. Only his eyes told the story of what was going on inside, his swollen, red eyes.


	6. Calm Before The Storm

Everything was assaulting her from all angles. Sanguaze's muscles felt like they were on fire, her throat rasping for air even though nothing was clogging her airways. It hurt. Nothing he was really doing registered to her, as she instinctively flinched away from his ministrations a low dilated hiss issuing from her heaving airways. This was doing nothing for her, sure she was past the immediate danger of another arrest, but just because she was alien did not mean her pain thresh hold didn't exist, it was being very clear that she was handling a lot more pain then even her body could manage.

/I'm thinking blood tests?/ Came from Owen, it was only then she seemed to pull herself together momentary as his words came to her ears with a low hum, and she acted. It only took less then a few seconds but the noise was startling never the less teeth grinding as her left arm pulled up with a sudden jerk, snapping the handcuff's chain smartly in half. Arm reaching out she made an attempt to grasp Owen's closest wrist from moving anywhere to retrieve a syringe, as one word seemed to be screaming out in her mind. Idiot. This however, was unspoken as she blinked at him once, eyes still dilated in a barely controlled pain.

Gwen expected nothing more than what Owen gave; a sort of outburst, very like him, but his anger had seemed to evolve into...tears. She wasn't sure how she should fit herself into all of this. At best, she could assist him with tasks she was introduced to informally at least one time ago, but emotional support-wise it was conflict she found herself steering clear from. There was a cold side to her, one she only turned to those she had been warned about by people she trusts, such as the side she turned once to Captain John once Jack had expressed wariness about the situation of his appearance. In the very beginning, before she knew the crew, she was rather distant from them as well. Gwen wasn't just sympathetic to everything from the start; it was all in the impression.

Yet for whatever reason, such a stone wall could not be placed between her and Owen. Even though she had done her best to put the past behind her, especially after her marriage, at this moment it took a lot to not...hug him or something. No, not hug. What was the impulse she wasn't even allowing herself to process? The sadness in his eyes;had to be it. There was a sadness that had always been there that she was never able to ignore from day one. True, as mentioned before, she wasn't always open,but there was a weakness that look always gave her, time and time again. The only way she could prevent herself from being swept away again was to force upon herself a different personality, one that was not naturally her own, but that she pulls off rather effectively. When Owen was prepared to run blood tests, eyes red and irritated from frustration and tears, she was ready to put on her boots and mask for the problem at hand.

That was, well of course, before the 'patient' so to speak had begun to act on her own. She flinched for a second, her amazement never close to ceasing as the stranger in the room had broken out of her cuffs as if they were made of plaster and took her health and recovery into her own hands. She was, and Gwen didn't doubt this for a moment,well aware of her own condition and how to handle it. She had revived the medic from the dead, no small feat there.

"Blood tests? What good will that do?" Gwen exclaimed, busy being a witness to the extraordinary as was what seemed to be a daily regiment. This person couldn't be human, and whatever species she was could probably be known either by simply asking or taking into consideration what she had already shown to be capable of doing. How many humanoid beings with what appeared to be...feline-like characteristics in the slightest, incredible strength, knowledge, and ability to revive the dead could their possibly be in existence? Hopefully not a lot, was the first answer that came to thought, the second being a mental confirmation that there was some sort of artifact aid in the return of their lost teammate.

"Yes, blood tests." Owen explained his words to Gwen, though it felt like he was also using them to explain to himself at the same time. "Because it helps, PC Cooper, to know what it is you're treating before you blunder in and make things worse. Going on what you've seen of this girl so far, would you say she's human?" It wasn't really a question. He hadn't realized that he'd placed a hand back on his patients shoulder. The first he knew of the involuntary action was the sensation of shuddering below his palm as she tried to breathe. He withdrew his hand sharply, his brain spinning as he tried to remember putting his hand there. He could not. Something had pulled it there, like some sort of magnetic connection. It was difficult to move away from her, like there was some sort of emotional bond there too. How could there be? He'd never seen her before, he didn't know her name, heck, he didn't even know if she was human. But there was something there. He was sure of it. He just didn't have a clue what it was.

Owen's gaze shot from Gwen to the mystery woman as she snapped yet another set of restraints with apparent was no way she was human, no-one could be strong enough to break steel handcuffs in such an apparently weakened state. But that sent so many unanswered questions flying around his head, torturing his weak mind. He knew Jack had some answers, and that tortured him further. Their leader had a tendency to keep things from his team. In a normal situation, it didn't bother him that much, he'd just sort of accepted it. The secrecy annoyed Gwen the most and seemingly Ianto the least. Owen just kind of slotted in the centre. But not when the withheld information could help him save a life. In this sort of situation, in annoyance far surpassed Gwen Cooper's, and boiled to a stage when he'd quite happily grab Jack by the collar and try to shake the information free. Not like it would work, but still, Jack would make a good stress ball -he just kept bouncing back.

"Watch your head" Sanguaze rasped, before rolling precariously onto her side turning her gaze towards the drawer she had placed the contender of her pockets in earlier. Her grip on his arm seemed to tighten with a slight anxiety as her eyes shut briefly furling her face into one of concentration before the metal drawer snapped out as she opened her eyes. Then jerking her head sharply a metal box vaulted out of its contained area skittering to a halt on top of the medical tray beside the table. She knew she had just opened Pandora's box so to speak, but frankly at this point there was no going back.

Tearing her other confined arms restraints, she let him go numbly, focusing on a small odd lock on the battered medical container before it fell off with a click and she flipped the lid open with a shaking hand. Inside was a large arrangement of alien implements, however, it seemed she knew exactly what she was looking for. Tossing a data pad she didn't look to see if Owen had caught it or not, it would give him all the medical and statistical information on her blood work, extra DNA sequences in her genetic make up, name, age, weight and so on.

Finally she saw what she had been looking for, and with very little restraint left yanked out a pouch containing a various amount of vials. Rasping, she shivered, her quaking fingers deftly yanking out a vial of dark green liquid, before numbly ripping the cap off and snatching the closest sterilized syringe in reach. Jabbing the syringe into the neck of the bottle she withdrew half of its contents before raising it, tapping the glass, squirting the excess out of the end to remove any air bubbles before running her spare hand over her chest and pulling back the fabric.

She knew Owen probably panic, but there wasn't enough time to stop her from what she was about to do, and unknown to him she did value her life and then without a second thought she jammed the syringe into her left ventricle releasing the liquid with a sharp jab of her thumb. Grunting she tossed the syringe onto the metal tray as her back hit the back of the table with a sharp impact as she let out large shudder. If he was half the medical expert she had read about, he would be now trying to figure out what she had injected herself with, she would speed up that process.

The guest had now been shuffling through vials she had previously kept on her 'person' and simply had had the fortune to be placed beside her, if that really was the case, while Gwen looked to where Jack was standing from the corner of her eye to realize he had gone. She took a hesitant step forward, sort of hovering in one spot as she debated on whether approaching at all was a wise decision. She was feeling just a little ill(unaware at the moment of the radiation), and she wasn't ready to find out just how feral this guest could be. Standing down and waiting for Jack or Owen's actions to eventually lead her out seemed to be the best course of action for herself, since she knew nothing other than the last half hour of restless revivals and drama of this stranger. Gwen didn't catch any vibe of 'high-alert'status from her, for whatever reason, even after Sanguaze's display of power and...well, now. Apparently knowledge on top of it all. Gwen wasn't off at her earlier assumption; their guest was well learned.

It was then that a hand clasped sharply around his left wrist, it's touch warm and electrifying. Normally, instinct would tell him to pull away, but not this time. In the grasp of his patient, Owen's arm did nothing more than twitch in resistance. His eyes snapped to hers, trying to figure out what on earth was going on, with little success. All he could surmise from watching her was the blindingly obvious - she was treating herself. Every shred of his attention was locked on her, ready to stop her if she was about to injure herself. However, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing, finding exactly the right drawer, selecting the correct syringes, levitating objects... hang on a minute! Blinking in disbelief, he watched as a metal box lifted itself out of a drawer and place itself next to her. He didn't even notice that she'd released her hold on him. She was definitely not human. They were dealing with something altogether different, and that in itself was dangerous.

"In twenty first century the injection is the equivalent of a cross of high dosage Diethyl ether and enough generic painkillers to take down a full grown elephant. In English, a recovery compound that is unable to be synthesized in this century." Sanguaze said through gritted teeth as her heart rate on the monitors suddenly dropped after a minute of it being in her system and she seemed to visible relax as her eyes reverted back to their un-natural shade of green and her muscles seemed to un-tense slightly. Everything in the room seemed to stop spinning, as she finally was able to grasp her bearings a bit better. There was only the three of them there now, Owen Harper, herself and a black haired women - Jack was no where in sight to her unexpected relief.

But there was something else that looked dangerous - injecting straight into your heart! Owen's body stiffened as he poised to react, to stop her from making things so much worse. But there was no time, in a second it was done. Perhaps the solution would react differently to an alien heart, it was all he could hope for right now. It struck him that the little metal box was full of salvaged medical supplies that had fallen through the rift about a month before he'd died the last time. He'd been trying to analyse what was in them but he'd quite literally run out of time. Thankfully, they had what appeared to be an alien medical expert on hand to clear everything up. Owen nodded through the explanation, slightly peeved that the weeks of investigative research to find out what was in that case had been summed up by a stranger in a sentence. It had been painstaking to try find each individual element, it had been like doing brain surgery on a grain of fucking rice.

Sitting up carefully, though Sanguaze knew she shouldn't be doing so soon after experience she caught the clocked time of 3AM, before nabbing another vial full of clear liquid out of her medical pouch setting it with a firm tap on the tray table before locking the box of implements.

"You'll both have to take a dose of that since you've been exposed to the high level's of radiation on my body, run tests if you don't believe me." Her tone was dulled as she paused and looked over at Owen's face, it was the first time since she had recovered that her instincts had kicked in picking up the intense disruption of emotions swimming around in his head. She would help him- but later. For now, her mind was focused on only one thing- getting clean and radiation free. She didn't have time to explain her actions, as she made her way towards the medical storage room at quite an amazing speed for someone injured before slamming the door shut and crushing the lock in place with her grip. That would buy her some time and some privacy while the struggled to get the door open if they didn't figure out what she was up to.

* * *

And now said medical genius was telling them that they needed a shot of whatever the stuff was. Owen was dubious to say the least, physically stepping back and shooting a quick look at Gwen to see what she had to say about the whole deal. For some reason, there was something inside him that trusted this alien stranger that unexplained connection again perhaps? He watched as she sat up and wandered away calmly, almost arrogantly. She knew they wouldn't follow, she knew they wouldn't follow Jack's orders to have her chained to the table. There was no point, she'd only break anything they tried to use anyway, and they didn't want to run out of restraints in their job did they? So instead the only part of him that followed her as she left the room was his gaze.

The cure for Gwen's wounds was, as the guest declared during her self-administering of these drugs, beyond their medical understanding. It might make sense to Owen sure, if he knew what in the world(or not in this world) she was talking about. The guest didn't get very specific on the contents, either guessing that explanations would be point lessor this simply not being the appropriate time. There was no rule however, that both could not be true. Gwen found herself standing and watching, but ready if needed to help reach somethings, since their guest was still one hell of awreck.

What was that all about? She didn't remember Sanguaze being covered in this many injuries when she came in, or while reviving Owen. It was when the guest had mentioned the radiation however,where a realization on that subject did dawn; perhaps she inherited the injuries Owen had received the night of the accident. In that case, it was amazing that their guest was even capable of remaining alive, much less conscious and mobile.

How on earth could someone be so close to death one second, and then walk off non-chanlantly the next? With her injuries, Owen's have expected her to be confined to the medial bay for quite a while. She'd got broken bones, radiation burns, deep wounds that looked suspiciously like Weevil attack injuries, and loads more bumps and bruises that were probably quite serious but paled into insignificance when in context with her other problems. He knew she must be in pain, he knew what each of those injuries felt like, he'd had the mall. Subconsciously, the fingers on his right hand moved across his chest, towards the deep scar he'd carried with him since he'd been in that cage with the Weevil. He remembered how it felt to have his flesh torn from his body by savage teeth. But as his hands reached his left side, he felt nothing. Looking down in disbelief, he found his scar all but gone. In fact, all of his old lesions had disappeared, the only remaining mark being his chest bullet wound, though even that had become shallower. It was then that the connection was clear in his head, that girl had absorbed all of his injuries, she'd been dying from the ailments that had killed him, twice. That could mean only one thing,she'd been deeply involved in bringing him back to life.

Because of the deduction she was making, the warning about the radiation levels went over Gwen's head, barely registering as she watched the woman up and leave, just like that. She put a hand to her mouth, not only to keep it from gaping open but just to hide any sign of utter shock. No more of that was needed, not here; she didn't want to look like'little miss I can't handle this' again. She absentmindedly let her hand just run through her hair before turning to Owen with a sort of smirk. "Jack brings them, but you never fail to make the biggest impression." She had to say something lighthearted, because if not, she just might implode or something. She just kept the all awkward smiles thing going, knowing that in just a bit the knives would be flying again.

Owen turned to Gwen, not surprised to see that she had her hand covering her mouth in shock, she had always worn her heart on her sleeve, it was something he could never do. The sides of his mouth curled upwards as she spoke, it was about as much of a smile as he could manage right now. "Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm that kind of a guy." Reaching over to the vitals that the stranger had used, he prepared two syringes, and picked up the first, tapping the glass before holding out his own arm and rubbing at his vein with the last two fingers on his right hand. He injected the substance into his arm, hoping that this less dramatic method would still work. It barely crossed his mind that this was the wrong thing to do, he trusted that woman for some strange reason, but there was enough doubt there to inject himself first, that way if he had any adverse reactions, Gwen would be safe. Dropping the syringe back on the metal tray, he turned back to Gwen. "What do you think? Do you want it or not?"

It was more than just an injection, but obviously the first sign of actual trust. Not that it'd kill Gwen had she not been exposed to radiation if she did take it, but to accept would send the message 'it's alright, I believe her, this stranger I have yet to really know'. Still, a midst all that do you really think she'd refuse? Gwen trusted this visitor,not because there was some odd feeling about her in the back of her head, or because anyone else did (well, Owen taking the advice did help; won't count that out), but she was the one who brought back one of their own from a secure and rather final end. Normally, an enemy of Torchwood would do anything in its power to take the lives that remained. And of course, on top of that no harm would come of it. Gwen nodded. "Go ahead. Won't do any harm, right?"At least that was the thought that she had trained on to herself. For all she knew, whatever Owen gave her would have adverse reactions otherwise, but it goes to show how much she trusted the mysterious stranger.

Owen could feel it. He could feel the sensation of the liquid entering his bloodstream, being swept along by the blood cells and around his body. It was surprising how attuned to these sort of things he was now. Suppose not having luxuries such as blood and breath for a while can do that to a guy. Everything felt weird, including the sheer effort it took just to remember to breathe every few seconds. It's not like he'd expected to just jump up and be his normal self but this was just too strange. Maybe it'd take as long for Owen to get used to being alive as it took him to get used to being dead. In which case, they could be here a while.

His eyes were still focused on Gwen, studying her for the effects of the radiation. His mind flicked through his mental Doctor's notebook, remembering all too familiar symptoms of radiation sickness. He'd felt them all when he'd died last time, every single one and more besides. So vivid were his memories of that night that he had to force himself to focus, to put his knowledge of the patterns against Gwen rather than himself. Blinking, he tried to force himself off memory lane and onto the medical highway. Nausea, vomiting, headaches, fever, fatigue, dizziness,disorientation, low blood pressure...his mind reeled them off like he was sitting in a medical exam, but this was real life and he had plenty of experience there too.

Owen picked up on a little light headedness from Gwen but little else, still he was glad that she'd decided to take the injection. He busied himself preparing the syringe, not wanting to answer Gwen's question. It could do her harm, serious harm. They had no idea of what was in the vitals except for the word of a stranger. It could have been some extra aggressive form of poison for all they knew, but he wasn't going to tell her that. The truth was that he believed it would help, and he hadn't had any adverse reactions yet, so he kept quiet for once. He did, however, take a little extra time over Gwen's syringe, studying the colour of the liquid and matching it to the memory of his own. His mind was conflicted over how long he should stall. He wanted long enough to allow his body to react to the drug but he didn't want her to keel over either.

"Do you know her by any chance, the woman that brought you back?" Even though it didn't seem likely to her, Owen did carry a sense of familiarity with the woman that resurrected him, and perhaps Jack didn't just bring in a complete and total unknown factor into this colourful picture they fondly referred to as Torchwood. "Jack just came in with her, you know him, always full of surprises. She was absolutely fine before she brought you back." Perhaps that wasn't the best thing to tell to her friend here, who was probably unsure about himself at the moment and didn't need to have tacked on the fact that he nearly killed the person who brought him back to life. Gwen wasn't the type who thought so far ahead, but she did catch her mistakes as she made them, fortunate for that, so she added, "Her injuries, I couldn't help but notice. It was as if she was in the plant with you." There, now it seemed less of his fault, so she hoped. It didn't, did it? Sometimes she could be such a fool, trying to make others feel better but making them feel worse somehow. She had done it to Rhys before too many times and regretfully paid for it. She didn't want to leave Owen on a bad note, she never meant to, but she did want to get him thinking along with her. Having more than one mind together to crack the mystery was better than one solitary.

They were the only ones left in the room though, since Jack had closed with his disappearing act and the 'patient' who was just minutes ago in critical to flirting with death condition had made a more impressive exit. Her questioned felt like they were echoing in an empty space rather than being heard by anyone but herself. Mornings weren't the best of times for her to top all things off, but all this drama so early in it was more than overwhelming. Gwen felt she had to sit down, rest for a moment, but that could just be radiation poisoning. Was she still too sensitive for this job? She could bet on yes. Though Rhys complained that Torchwood was turning her into someone else, someone with a heart of stone, she still felt sympathy, and still got lost in the moments that took her breath away. She made it her personal mission to keep her wits about her, including whatever still kept her human.

Her thoughts continued to drift to Sanguaze however, and her strengths and capabilities from what she observed. Had she been their enemy, would she even be capable of being stopped? Everyone had their weaknesses. Torchwood also went hand in hand with the wonderful task of assessing those weaknesses. For all she knew, Jack was probably already on it, just for insurance. Just the kind of mildly insensitive thing he'd do...Gwen could feel the onset of light-headedness, and the slight reel of her stomach. Either the coffee was not agreeing with her, just as likely, or the poisoning was definitely taking its toll.

Thankfully, Gwen seemed alright enough to attempt a conversation, and Owen would have put money on her choice of topic. He let her ramble on for a while, whilst he pretended to busy himself with the syringe that he'd prepared minutes ago. At least she was answering some of his mental questions. The girl came in with Jack, her injuries resembled his and most important of all - she was the one that brought him back. He mulled over the possibilities for a while, before Gwen's face drained colour and stole his attention. Owen placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to guide her towards the bed. "Sit down" There would be no more stalling. He rolled up the sleeve on her left arm and applied pressure on the vein, forcing it to reveal itself. With his other hand, he reached for the syringe and pulled off the cover with his teeth. It was at this point in any procedure that he automatically started talking to his patients, and so he found himself answering Gwen's questions without really meaning to.

"No, I don't know her, never seen her before in my life... or death." With a slow but steady movement, Owen pressed the needle into the vein and pressed the plunger before drawing the needle out again. "I was alone in that plant, 100% alone." His thumb applied pressure to the entry point for a few seconds before he completely moved back, and began to dispose of the empty syringes. The less he looked at Gwen, the easier it was to talk. "It seems she took on all my injuries, she risked her life to save me. Nice gesture, the question is - why?" Not how, he wasn't bothered with how. Perhaps a more anatomical person, like Tosh... they would care. But not Owen Harper. The question that always burned on his lips was - 'Why me?", and this was no different.

His foot landed rather heavily on the lever for the bin, making the lid snap open rather abruptly as he disposed of the contaminated equipment. Realizing in a wave of annoyance that he was still wearing nothing but a sheet, he marched over to one of the drawers, finding his secret stash of clothes that he used to change into before heading straight out to a bar from the Hub. They were his 'pulling clothes', a pair of slim dark jeans and a designer shirt, how ironic. Pulling his jeans on, he was fully aware that he was still in the full view of a female colleague - but it was nothing she hadn't seen before, right? He moved back towards her as he yanked off his makeshift 'skirt', throwing it roughly on the floor before he slipped his arms into the long-sleeved shirt. He began buttoning it up, starting from the bottom, but grew increasingly frustrated that he couldn't fasten the tiny buttons.

Once he had answered Gwen's questions and wandered off to get a change of clothes, Gwen found herself alone in the autopsy room, which gave her the creeps just as much as it always had. The slightly humorous part of this was that this place has seen its share of life being returned from the dead, for a place meant solely for examining the dead. It gave the room a more haunted feel, as if the souls of those brought here were but a breath away. They might as well be, Gwen, might as well be. She placed both hands to her head, like she was being taken hostage by the situation, letting them slide back down as she noticed little things, like the room being a mess now, a discarded wrapper here and a knocked over bit of supplies there. Thankfully Owen, being serious about his job as a medic, threw away the syringes used so there would be at least some hint that the place was still somewhat a sigh she occupied herself by cleaning up some, not all, but at least putting whatever littered the ground or toppled over back in their places.

Owen was alive yet again, and this time she was nearly certain he was actually alive. He was breathing, which was the first of what she noticed, but on top of all that when the woman had brought him back to life, she watched as everything formed to make him up, all organs replaced, everything where it should be. Then he had to take the same thing she had, which wouldn't have been necessary if he was in his previous state. It got her thinking, as she picked up article by article, what did Owen plan to do? Had it been herself that had gone through all that madness, she may have asked Jack to resign her position. Imagine that, being dead, then brought back to life but still dead and told that you'll never be alive again, and then dying, and then being perfectly fine. It's worse than nearly anything she could imagine happening to someone. And it did happen to someone...Owen.

He didn't deserve it, mind you no one did, but of all people, not him. She didn't know him that well, even after their brief little 'relationship', but one thing she was sure of was that Owen was unfulfilled. He was like a puzzle whose pieces are scattered in distant lands, but they all carry a different image, making it nearly impossible to put him together. She then remembered the times he might have had some hope, but he never made it easy. Yeah, part of it was his fault, she had to admit. Owen never made it easy for someone to get under his skin. It was like he was always afraid of getting hurt, and the poor man by now probably knew of nothing but pain. Would he ever catch a break? If he continued to work for Jack, probably not. That was why Gwen wasn't sure what Owen's plans were. Would getting this chance to be alive again change him, help him, give him the justice he deserves. As always, she wanted to help, this time not getting too involved like had the uncanny urge to try and help those she felt need saving, and Owen was one prominent downward spiral.

She hoped he wasn't going to trash this chance, which she was fairly certain would be his last. Toshiko didn't get a second chance at all, did she? It still hurt to think about. Someday that might just be her too, and Rhys will feel the same. What if she had kids? Well, after the wedding incident she thought 'NOT ANY TIME SOON'. But still, Gwen Cooper wanted a future beyond Torchwood. As much as she enjoyed saving the world one day at a time, she would like some form of retirement that didn't end up in cold storage. How was it that Owen's play with mortality got her thinking of her own? Everyone had a purpose in life, that was what she believed, but she didn't wish for his to be a lesson for others on how not to be. That's a crappy purpose.

* * *

Glancing around, Sanguaze saw what she had noticed earlier, - an emergency shower. Peeling off her burnt and tainted clothes she threw them into a bio hazard bin with a wince, before jumping into the shower stall, yanking the chain sharply and giving out a loud yelp as the fridged water doused her completely. Shivering, she yanked the sterilizer chain as an odorless spray mixed into the water, running into the cuts causing to bite her lip in pain. At last it was done. Stepping out of the chamber she wrapped her arms around her chest as she spied a set of sterilized towels in the corner of the room, as she hastened to dry herself knowing the door wouldn't hold out for much longer and she could feel the sedatives kicking in making her want to drop where she stood. Glancing around she found a spare set of clothing in a mussed up pile, consisting of a pair of boxers, jeans and a t-shirt, most likely belonging to one Owen Harper, as she yanked them on. She knew her cuts would have to be properly wrapped but now she was feeling horribly tired, as she pried at the remittance of the handcuffs on her wrists, tossing the now bent metal on the floor before collapsing over on a spare cot.

* * *

"Come on sleeping beauty!" Jack made his way over to Sanguaze asleep in one of the cots that were formally for Torchwood's patients. It had taken him a few minutes to gain entrance to the extension of the autopsy room where the blonde had situated herself in the medical storage bay. Seeing has Torchwood didn't have many patients that much Jack decided that this place just became storage, so it didn't surprise him that this was just another room that needed a spring clean. He had made his phone calls, still had no idea or answer where Ianto was but it was like nearly half three in the morning so presumingly he was asleep too, something Jack didn't do. So watching Sanguaze has she dozed off fascinated him, it had been so long since he slept he kind of missed that feeling. He ran a gently finger and brushed her hair behind her ear and down the side of her face "What are you?" He muttered mostly to himself, so it wasn't really a question. His piercing blue eyes were sharp and focused.

Yes she had dwelled on bringing Owen Harper back to life, questions, so many questions but for now, she needed to be locked up. Of course he felt bad, Owen's words, Gwen's words earlier, they weren't just words to him, they were reality that really did get to him. He had a hard front, but scratch the surface he was venerable as the next guy could be. He had to leave earlier get away from the throbbing truth that hurt. He hurled Sanguaze over his shoulder and carried her to the vaults. Placing her in the cell, he lowered her onto the slab like bench. His team might think his actions towards her might have been on the harsh side after a few hours of being with them and already doing unthinkable things the truth was, Jack or anyone of his team didn't know much about her or her intentions. Until they knew something to work with, she'd had to be classed as a prisoner instead of a patient. From the back of his pocket he pulled out a circular object. No bigger then a pair of handcuffs and clamped it around the ankle of the woman. It was a tracking device, salvaged from some equipment that fell to earth a few months ago and Jack had seen it before, it was Judoon – space police technology and bloody brilliant. If she attempted in removing it a electric shock would strike her. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon without him knowing about it.

Jack only wanted to start the report on Sanguaze (her name, that's what she told him anyway, back at the plant, if he remembered correctly) . As soon as it was started the quicker it would be finished. Ask a few questions that he didn't already know, get some answers in return for good measures, another kiss if he was lucky, a shove in the wrong direction and land on a cold, hard floor of the autopsy bay if he was not so lucky, a few phone calls here and there, and there you have it. Let's face it, Jack and paperwork really didn't mix at all, he'd rather get somebody else to do it for him, and that wouldn't be the first time he had done just that. But, if it wasn't needed at the time, he would have left it either for later for something to do with himself on those restless nights or for Ianto to do for him. The second options would be relevant.

It was needed now and Jack had to start it, it was something that had to be done, no matter how much he disliked it. But no… too make his life more challenging the blonde had other plans didn't she? Owen for one of them. Not like he was bothered about a challenge, because he wasn't, in fact he would rise to it, on the count of things getting straight, considering as it was a mess right know. And it wasn't the sort of mess that Ianto could clean up with his dustpan and brush either, and at the end of the day, be granted with a very well achieved and needed cup of industrial strength coffee.

He wasn't in his office for five minutes, he threw the newly folder that would eventually contain the report of the blonde he had found attractive, onto the already over piled with various things, on his desk. He had just broken the news to Owen about Toshiko's death, so the exception of paperwork can wait for a while longer. He didn't stop in the autopsy room to see Owen's reaction to the news or how he took it all in. To be honest, it was more Gwen's scene then his so she would cope, he was sure of it. After moving Sanguaze to her cell and a glance around his office, he grabbed his everlasting, old fashioned, Greatcoat and slipped it around his shoulders. He heaved a sigh and made his way out of The Hub, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets as he went. Walking while thinking was something Jack did quite a lot, and sometimes that was what made him distant from the rest at times, something Gwen was on at him about. For somebody who has quite a few punch lines up his sleeve, somebody who says what he thinks most of the time, he wasn't half good at keeping things to himself and his emotions to a restricted range around him. He raised his eyebrows at that thought, which was one hell of achievement right?

He didn't really know what to think of Sanguaze, slipping through the rift in that nuclear plant, and then reviving Owen. It was just a bit of a whirlwind at the moment. She had to be treated like any other thing that found their way this side of the rift, standard Torchwood procedure. That's why he had placed her in the cell, while he was doing other stuff, the machines would run their checks and scans over her body, to give him a bit more to go then her word and what he had saw of her already. Let's face it, that is the nearest thing he was going to get to answers at this stage. She told him she was from the 'seventy first century' and he had witnessed her 'bring somebody back from the dead'. He had placed the tracker around her ankle because; back at the nuclear plant it looked like she had broken through the concrete door. Yeah of cause radiation was filling the rooms and corridors so the wall would have eventually gave away, which he had inches escaped from, but the door had already been smashed open from what he saw… If she could break through that, then what else could she do? He wanted to get her on his own, now there's a thought…

Owen, well that was a whole different thought altogether. OK, there wasn't exactly a friendly rivalry between the two of them, but they were alright weren't they? Actually he wasn't sure where to put there relationship. Even though they were on the same team, they weren't exactly involved in the same clique. Although the one thing they had actually got in common, ironically was that they couldn't seem to die, Jack more so obviously, but Owen couldn't seem to stay dead either. To a certain point he was glad to have him back, he wasn't a man down any more, be apart of the team again. Well that's if he still wanted to be, but his job would always be kept safe for him – that, and he needed to put up with Jack again. He wasn't that bad surely?


	7. The Hunt Is On

Sanguaze slept well. Despite what had happened around the clock after Sanguaze was out like a light, she was completely oblivious to it all. Until now. There was nothing dramatic about her awakening, no string of ear sores, no graceful yawn or clumsily falling off a bed. All in all you could say she had woken up in the same fashion that most human beings awoke all around the world - tired, dazed and wanting to hit the snooze button for another five minutes. This morning however, there was no alarm to toss across the room, no blanket curl back up in and defiantly no pillow that she swore had been there when she had fallen asleep the night before. Her face was lying squarely on something cold and smooth and by the feel of it was made of grungy metal. Muttering in a low tone, Sanguaze pushed a lock of hair from her face before slowly planting her arms beneath her chest and pushed up into a seated position taking in exactly where she was. This was defiantly not the medical supplies room she had passed out on earlier in the …morning.

This was purely and simple a cell. One of Torchwood's vault cells to be precise, on the high security risk level if she had assessed it properly by the lack of fellow neighboring cellmates, not that it really mattered. The fact still remained, that within the five or so hours she had been asleep someone, well not just anyone [ it had obviously been Captain Jack Harkness for who else really was considering her a threat at this point] had moved her from her still fairly critical state into a cold damp cell. A cell. A room for dangerous beings and threats to humanity, something she didn't consider herself… well the threat to the human race anyway, she couldn't vouch on her not being dangerous because it simply wasn't true.

This wasn't the only thing that was bugging her though, for when Sanguaze swung her feet off the metal slab like bench to the ground the odd feel of something weighted brushed against her left ankle, initiating her to look down at what was visibly a thick metal ring around the bottom of her leg. Lifting her foot onto the thigh of her planted leg her hands grazed the cool metal surface of the band gently prodding around the hinges before retracting her hand sharply swearing at the current that had jumped from the ring to the pads of her fingers. Growling lowly to herself she placed her foot back on the ground in an irritated manner before standing up and padding across the cold cell floor in her bare feet. There was no use fiddling with that band, Sanguaze had quickly recognized as a tamper proof Judoon tracking ring, and those things as brilliant as they were for some situations, were a pain in the ass to remove.

The next issue was that there was a thick wall shatter proof what looked like plexi-glass in front of her but was obviously made of some alien material which was blocking her out from leaving the confines of her cell. Jack had really thought of everything this time, well so he thought anyway, unfortunately he really did underestimate her potential from even inside a completely closed off compound and as a result would have some damage to deal with when he showed up. Hands pressing up against the transparent door, Sanguaze craned her neck to get a better view of the hallway in front of her, first looking to ensure there really were no other occupants in the area that she might accidentally set loose and secondly for some kind of control box. She found none of the first but defiantly the latter nestled on the opposite wall completely on the other side of the room from her position.

Cheek plastered firmly against the wall, Sanguaze's eyes dilated into golden cat like slits sharpening her vision greatly as she set an intense stare upon the little metal box in her gaze. It shuddered once sharply, and then seemed to stop moving all together as Sanguaze let out a low hiss of agitation; it was obvious that it was planted very securely on that wall with extra precautions to avoid it being ripped off and that she would just have to be more creative. Glancing around, she found her savoir in a matter of moments - a small rubber handed screwdriver lying listlessly on the ground. Focusing on it carefully she raised it to eye level before yanking it towards the grooved panel on the front of the control box, wedging the flat metal edge in with a solid thud. Shifting her gaze slightly to the right of the implements handle she jerked her vision sharply as the cover of the panel fell to the ground with a clank along with the screwdriver. What was now lying before her was a jumble of different colour wires and her next big mental challenge - hot wiring the system from across the room while not setting off any other bells and whistles.

Biting her bottom lip firmly, Sanguaze's eyes seemed to harden into a big focus as her mind traced the origins of each wire before settling on the two which made most logical sense that would open the cell block doors. Staring intently she first withdrew a bright orange wire from its rubber socket balancing it in a state of flux as she lifted a finger away from the glass in an arch drawing a green one to meet the edge of the orange. First there was a bright spark and then after her focus was dropped came the loud air horn like noise that split through the silence with ear rupturing noise as all the cell doors sprung open with a clang. A slight smirk tugged on the corner of her mouth as she pitched forward out of what was no longer her prison, as she drew up a hand waving cheerily at the security camera. They would sure have a fun time watching her little parlor trick, after she was out of the building of course.

Padding towards the stair case, Sanguaze took the stairs in sets of two nabbing the screwdriver along the way as she finally resurfaced into the main section of The Hub four flights later. There was no one around, minus herself and the various beasts down in the vaults, which stuck her as odd, however, in light of the circumstances she really didn't care. There across from here was a slightly rusted mirror, which was now clearly giving Sanguaze a picture to picture view of exactly what damages she had befallen the night before. The burnt skin from the radiation was now gone, instead just leaving her skin red and blotchy as many of the minor knocks and scratches had also vanished from sight. She could feel that the bullet wound on her chest was slowly starting to heal up, and that the rake marks across her shoulder and back had also started to rapidly heal over, but still would take a few days to fully recover. Then there was her finger, now that it was properly set that too had started to mend, but still had a way to go, though in human standards going from critical to just quite injured within five hours was a miracle in itself.

She still didn't have any shoes, or socks for that matter but seeing as she was in a set of what she assumed was Owen's clothing she felt lucky that she even had anything to change into in the first place. Shoving the screwdriver she had picked up earlier into her back pocket, Sanguaze proceeded towards the rolling door that lead out of the Torchwood facility near the docks only pausing long enough to pull the doors security panel off and manually override the safeties, leaving The Hub squealing blaring noise and alarms.

* * *

"Fuck!" Halfway up, Owen gave in, snatching his hands away sharply and leaving his shirt in a state of half-buttoned disarray. He was getting seriously pissed. Everything was piling on top of him and he was plain angry. Angry about being brought back, angry at Jack, angry about Toshiko... just angry, and there was no way he could possibly hide it. Finally, he stood still, visibly seething as his eyes moved to the projection on the autopsy room wall. It was 5:37am, and soon the city would be awake. The workers would kiss their partners and head off to the office, the children would wave goodbye to their parents at the school gates and the unemployed would watch Jeremy Kyle reruns 'til 12 noon. All so unaware, all so ridiculously ignorant of everything going on around them. And no matter how much they moaned otherwise, life was so easy for them. Life, and death, had never been easy for Owen Harper, and he was sick of it.

As if to prove his point, a loud siren screamed through The Hub, and he knew exactly what that meant, they all did - a security breach in the cells. Snapping out of his 'me against the world' routine, Owen reached for the autopsy room computer. His fingers moved fluidly across the keys, as he entered the security code and opened the closed-circuit TV picture of the cells on the projector wall. Looking up, his fears were confirmed, the cells were empty, all save Janet, whose glass cage was still intact. The Weevil did, however, look distressed at the racket as she shrunk to the corner of her cell, her leathery face illuminated by the flashing red warning light. Rewinding the tape, he watched his 'patient escape in slow-motion reverse. It seemed there was no holding this girl back. Owen took a moment to collect all the details in his mind before turning to Gwen, with the slightest bit of an old Owen glint in his eye.

"Fancy an alien hunt?"

It was then, as Gwen arranged a tin of cotton balls that had fallen over back in it's place, that the alarms went off all around her. The tin slipped from her hand to the ground with an inaudible clang against the klaxon of the warning bells. "Damn it." She pushed the tin away with her foot before preparing to make her way to The Hub's main floor, until Owen emerged and checked on the autopsy room's monitor the situation in the high risk security cells. The alarm silenced before he asked his silly little question. Silly...her fears were being somewhat soothed. He didn't sound like he didn't appreciate this chance he was given. Hopefully this time, he can do it right, make something of his life. She returned his query with a playful smirk and her answer.

"Just like old times? Of course." With that, she climbed up to the main floor, reaching the seemingly hovering monitors that displayed the tracking information of all individuals wearing Jack's fashionably efficient bracelets. He must have put one on the escapee, who happened to be none other than the woman who brought Owen back to life. There she was, not to far. She gave Owen a quick read of the directions so they knew where to be heading. In the back of her mind though, she wondered if this was necessary, after what she had done for them. If Jack had put her in that cell with the bracelet though, then she had no excuse technically to disobey orders. All escapees must be reclaimed immediately. On the bright side, she may get to know this woman a little better, and at least get a name, something. Gwen needed to know who made a miracle occur.

Even with his head still spinning and his body feeling really odd, Owen had never felt more alive. His new eyes weren't struggling with the darkness of the room, even though he'd dipped the lighting automatically so that the image of the empty cell could be seen clearly on the white walls. The sirens were blaring intermittently, but even though the racket he could also hear the yowls of what was either annoyance or fear from Janet. He was being hit by so many emotions all at once, but they were all mixed together into the fuel it took to keep him standing. His body was poised and ready to roll, and that felt fantastic.

He wanted Gwen to come, of course he did, but if she said no he knew he would go on alone. Ianto was a strangely absent figure from the whole proceedings, but he was probably off making tea or whatever he did these days. It would feel strange without Toshiko, but he was sure that he'd be able to mask the hurt with the adrenaline of a good chase. Another thing of which he was sure was that he didn't want Jack to come back and take this away from him. He'd said his piece to their 'Captain' and he didn't want to deal with him again for a while. Still, there was no doubt Jack was swan in at the end and probably take either all the glory or a bullet. And do you know what? If Jack pushed any more of Owen's buttons, that bullet might come from his gun. It wouldn't be the first time.

He could barely stand still - it was overwhelming to be on the verge of a classic Torchwood mission just hours after he'd been firmly stuck in the ebony clutches of death. A smile widened on his features when he realized just what Gwen had been doing before he turned back to her. She'd been trying to tidy up the mess he'd managed to create in even that short amount of time. Oh well, he was back in business, so that meant Harper-Chic was back in fashion. Organised chaos, that's what Toshiko had called it, and she'd been right. Wow, it felt like a kick in the guts to even think of her in past-tense. Thankfully, Gwen saved him from dwelling on the hurt too much, by announcing that she'd come with him, spurring him into action.

Both of them leapt up, Gwen racing for the computers and Owen heading for the armory to get himself something that vaguely resembled his old gun. He hadn't expected to find the exact one, but as luck would have it, a little rooting uncovered the familiar weapon and grabbed a holster and torch for good measure. Returning to grab a few essentials from the autopsy bay, he caught Gwen's set of directions and hoped that she'd recorded them somehow, because there was no way he was going to remember them right now. Pulling at the archives drawer, he found some of his stuff that had been bagged up following his death. He knew that it would be done, but that didn't make it any easier to see everything in clear, sterile bags with the Torchwood logo stamped on the front. Ripping at the bag with his teeth, he retrieved his favorite black jacket and slipped it over his arms. It would hide the fact that he was a three year old who couldn't do up shirt buttons.

"Right then." He looked over towards Gwen as he grabbed his black box of essential supplies and slotted his old gun into the holster at his hip. Smiling, he gestured towards the door. "Just like old times."

Just like old times...

Yeah, definitely. Not like it would ever be the same though. Gwen still had trouble getting it through her head that he was back, and that aside from Toshiko's absence, things had the potential to be just as they were before. She wanted to talk to Owen, really get a chance to, because after what little she got to see of his life, and what she had seen during his 'death', she knew he needed a chance to get things straight. Maybe she wasn't the best person to go over this with, or the right one, but as of now, she was the only one. Jack would probably say something completely use lessor offensive and Ianto would talk but his interest seemed lofty on nearly everything other than Jack. Tosh would have been the best bet but she couldn't quite do anything at the moment, could she? Damn, it still hurt to think about it. Gwen paused before the monitor for a while, feeling time stand still around her, before it came around for her again and she took the tracker from the desk; it was the little portable device that flashed its red light more repeatedly the closer they got. Simple to understand, marvelous little aide. She took the address into memory displayed on the screens before her before joining her partner for the drive.

* * *

It was only when she had walked several blocks, efficiently cutting up the pads of her feet that Sanguaze had begun to realize that it was a little more then cold out. Considering her breath was coming out in chilled visible puffs in front of her as she walked heatedly along the sidewalk aimed in no where in particular. Well that was until she froze on the spot, there was something ringing in the back of her mind causing her to cease her legs movements forward. Sanguaze found herself staring blankly at an abandoned building across the street from her, as a faint but vibrant string of emotions, something alien, seemed to resonate towards her from the building supper levels. She didn't know why she was now moving across the street, pushing the rusted front door open, and heading towards what was quite apparently a dangerous set of rotting stairs, but she was.

Mounting them gingerly, Sanguaze finally arrived on the floor that seemed to teem the strongest with the vibrations she had sensed earlier, with little more then a slightly larger then wanted splinter in the pad of her right foot and a few slivers. Lifting her foot up, she pulled the slivers out, grasping them with the edges of her nails, before gritting her teeth and pulling the splinter out of her pad as blood seeped steadily but in a small amount onto the floor as she stood up to her full height. It was time to see exactly who was in this building, and why it had drawn her so. She had moved very quietly so really it was no surprise when she looked in and saw the resident of this floor pounding away on a punching bag clearly unaware of her presence. It was clearly alien, and by closer scrutinizing Sanguaze had determined that it was a she, while her bindings seemed to restrain her from …. something.

That something she determined was…metal? Everything that well might have been something wholesome and metal at one time was now seemingly a large puddle of melted fluid strewn around the room. She had remembered hearing of such a race, known largely as 'metal eaters' in her youth history studies when she was younger but frankly had never encountered one before. It was clear now that she had been spotted or rather sensed and this is what drove her to do something quite unlike herself; - she sat down on the floor calmly in a non-provoking matter and withdrew the screwdriver. Tossing it gently towards the being in front of her, she leaned back planting the palms of her hands behind her on the floor as she gestured towards the object in the inclination it was a gift, and granted, a test to her theory to see if this indeed was a metal eater.

The aliens eyes glowed with ominous depth, the color boiling to the brim, a molten red orange. Brows were drawn at extreme angles, poised downwards and welded in negative position, her eyes glowering out from beneath the layered line of her unruly, tapered locks. Burnt sienna hair stuck out like coils of cables or writhes of wire, in some places lying flat like feathers arranged on the motionless back of some lesser fowl. Her lips were pursed, taunt with tension like her muscles locked beneath her fiery skin, engulfed in a tide of heated emotion as it poisoned her breath and body upon the arrival of the golden stranger whose alien presence — both literal and figurative — was most unwelcome and unprecedented. The female, the foreign creature stood simply, rooted to the ground bathed in a stark contrast, cast in light and shadow which exaggerated her evident fury. Fists were drawn at her sides, still bandaged and bonded by wrapped, frail fabric though loosened and the ends had fell in ribbons. She was looking the woman in the eye. She was not human either. The silent agreement transpired between the two of them as if their minds were openly readable.

Her name was Braith and she held her prey within her optical range; her concentration would neither wax nor wane. She held her there in a mental choke hold, she would not escape. That was not an option and victims, once marked, would not leave without invitation, permission. Bare shoulders rolled back in their sockets, extending ligaments and muscle to claw her way, draw herself to her full height. She stood taller; she snorted. The two of them, women, female by chromosomes and by choice, but Braith shone in a masculine light. She lacked the significant bust, the overwhelming hourglass figure and the regal or the elegance of a womanly frame. Her features were soft, she was beautiful, but standing adjacent to the golden girl, she appeared boyish. Boyishly beautiful.

A fleshy gargoyle, Braith ceased all movement, until the woman broke the silence with a fast voice and faster hands. She cut through the air, tossing a stray scrap of metal — a tool, in her direction. Lips curled immediately, her movement interpreting her disgust. A pitiful test.

She caught it in easily in her close fist.

When, she had time, defying seconds and gravity, one might not had witnessed so easily without those blessed enhancements, but this female was just that lucky. Braith glared at her harder, her lips peeling back to expose her pearly whites in an unmistakably feral manner. Screw words, even compiled in concise explanations; kind or not, this woman had trespassed. That offence would not be taken lightly.

* * *

The journey hadn't taken long. Thankfully, Jack had wandered off without the SUV, which meant that they didn't have to take Gwen's Megane. There just wasn't enough horsepower in that little blue shoe box for Owen, who had insisted on driving. He relished the thrill of putting his foot down and racing across the city, even if he knew that he wasn't in a fit state to drive. There was noway he was going to be navigator while Gwen pissed about with seat belts and adjusting the steering wheel. As it stood, they got to the address that she had specified in under fifteen minutes, and that was more than enough time for him to get all the information he needed on the way.

After a few months of being spared this, Gwen still hated Owen's driving. He couldn't wait, drove the SUV like it was an extension of himself without any regard to rules, streetlights, or people, swerving through them as if he wasn't a four hundred pound object travelling at an excess amount of kilometers and just like being out there himself, he could simply push obstacles aside. Granted, Owen was a stellar driver due to the fact that he had yet to ever get them or anyone else killed, and got on the scene with time to spare.

Now was the time to say something, anything at least, but it wasn't going to be about the trip so far. "Owen, I know you just came back but...can you keep living like this? The way your life was, wasn't enough for you, was it? You should have gotten more." She needed to hear it from him at this point, because if he was willing to continue, she was willing to stay at his side for support. If not however, not only would she respect the decision, but she may rethink her own life. She had someone though, and a life outside this job. Maybe he needed a break from Torchwood to try and put something together himself. He didn't strike her as the type though, but as said before, she was curious.

He either wouldn't or didn't have time to answer, for the car came to a halt by the place that sent the tracker on her lap beeping and whistling like a deranged machine. With a deep, long awaited intake of oxygen when they arrived at the correct destination, she placed aside the portable tracking monitor, shutting it down and getting her seat belt off, looking to Owen briefly in thought that he would answer. Okay, just to put this out there, Jack was no better a driver either, but for whatever reason she felt less compelled to yell at him for his recklessness. NOT BECAUSE SHE FANCIED HIM. She didn't, at least, not like at first. He was...odd, an odd factor. Like a zombie, older step brother with a charming disposition but a 'shouldn't go there' kind of vibe. Something like that.

Owen had heard Gwen's comments but rather then answer them he let them go over his head for another time. He wasn't sure what he wanted out of life yet. At least Jack had done something right and put a tracker on the mystery woman. Still, as they entered the building, they could immediately tell that they'd got the right place. It was a set of flats, well, 'apartments' if you dealt in estate agent speak, but to Owen they were flats. Not exactly the nicest he'd ever come across, but not outwardly derelict enough to have such a horrible excuse for stairs. He edged towards the rotting wood, placing a hand on the damp surface and twisting his expression in dislike. "Be careful Gwen, these stairs don't look too clever." Not like she needed him to tell her that but still. He pulled out his gun as a precaution before gesturing towards the stairs, telling her he was about to try and make his way up, as quietly as he could. Easier said than done. Actually, it wasn't easy to find a bit of wood that was safe to step on either, but at last he made it to the fourth floor, where their intelligence had suggested they'd find their quarry. Oh look, Owen's going all cop-show.

His keen eye had noticed a little blood on the stairs as they'd ascended. Nothing too drastic, but still something to think about. Owen positioned himself quickly on the left hand side of the ajar door and waited for Gwen to get settled wherever she felt best. Breathing deeply as he mouthed the countdown to her, Owen held his gun in two hands, ready to throw himself into his first job, less than twelve hours after coming back from the dead.

The place they had arrived at looked old, somewhat dilapidated, but not condemned. Sort of like a flat, more like a motel in need of much repair in some areas. It smelled of mildew inside to her senses, and once Owen warned her of the stairs she realized where the scent may have came from. With care she ascended, behind with her own weapon grasped on her gun belt, which happened to be but a tranquilizer. Even now, she didn't want to go for the fatal approach. It wasn't much of a surprise this time around though; the woman they were hunting was the one who saved the day, sort of. It felt wrong to go after her, didn't it? Heck, it even felt wrong that Jack had bundled her up so tightly after what she had done. It wasn't as if she brought Owen back un-dead zombie form and he started eating Torchwood Three Team's brains. She scowled as her foot slipped and she had to use her free hand to grasp the railing, which was also moist and questionably able to handle some weight. She must have made some noise to tip off the person they hunted now. She would probably leave in a dash now, and of course Gwen would be blamed for it, not like she didn't deserve it. Her own error infuriated her though it was a simple mistake. Thank god Jack wasn't here lest she'd definitely get her nose rubbed in it. When she had slipped however, she too noticed the blood and felt herself fearing the condition they'd find the woman in. She only remembered the stranger ending up severely injured, and knew not of Sanguaze's healing capabilities.

* * *

"Sanguaze" It was a gentle statement, a single word that implied her name and nothing more or less, though she wasn't sure if it would be understood by the metal eater it was better then barging into a room headfirst gun's a blazing like the sudden realization that there were indeed other people now entering the bottom floor of the building. A joy and curse empathy was, though currently it was quite nice to know when you had visitors who would be crashing your party within a granted ten to twenty minutes. Sighing she sat up into more of an alert position, however, still remaining in a state of un-deniable passive movements to prevent any premature fears or aggression on the side of her counter part. She was here strictly out of curiosity and the draw to another alien presence which was a bit of a relief frankly to Sanguaze, since it seemed Torchwood kept alien presences quite ...contained.

Ok so maybe metal-eater didn't talk, or perhaps it was the fact that she had left her translator in the busted box back in Owen's autopsy bay in The Hub. Either way, Sanguaze didn't seem to be getting a response from the women in front of her. It really didn't matter that much, it wasn't like she had planned to come up here anyway, it was just the very alien emotional pull that had convinced her to investigate, such a handy thing empathy is. So instead, the room simply became quiet as Sanguaze sat there leaning back on her hands listening intently to the sounds of two bodies climbing the flour flights down the hall from their current location. Of course they were trying to be quiet, she could tell by the tone of the reverberations against the rotten footing that they were both trying to be quiet while not falling to a surely painful landing with a wrong step. Her estimation seemed to be just about right though, it took the newcomers in the building about fifteen minutes or so to get completely up the set of stairs and position themselves outside the room's door, before they went barreling in - New York cop style.

"It seems my friend that we are about to have visitors, granted it's not like I want them to come barging in, but it seems I always get the short end of the stick."

* * *

"Three, two, one" Owen nodded the 'go' command and charged into the building in typical Torchwood manner - all guns blazing. Stopping only once he stood in front of the mystery blonde, he saw that she was not alone. She was accompanied by an odd looking woman - yes, if anyone tell it was a woman, Owen could. Immediately, he jumped to the conclusion that they must be of the same species, and were 'in it together'. Moving his gun to and from both of them, his eyes took in every detail. It was with great surprise that he realized just where his spare set of clothes had gone.

Owen paused before her, giving her a waiting signal before mouthing the 'go' and finishing his ascent with one quick movement into the next floor. Gwen took position by his side, aiming the tranquilizer ahead and trying to keep a serious face. After all, she owed that much.

The bindings had left Braith's animate fist, now clenched tightly in a steaming grasp. The screwdriver sobbed its last breath, hissing under its oozing breath, melting steadily in contact with her skin. The core of her clenched fist glowed red hot, the metal continuously dripped in large, metallic clumps upon the wooden floor—no doubt a fire hazard, but Braith had other things dwelling in her mind. Seething, she rolled her shoulders backwards her head lowering slightly, as if she intended to spring forwards.

She said nothing and did nothing. The woman would be content to know her little test, her little theory was correct. Braith dropped the dead driver upon the floorboards; her eyes had never left the unfortunate soul, who appeared unaffected. She was an alien perhaps that gave her an edge to galactic weirdness. Her closed palm still dripped in decay; without warning she flexed those fingers, expelling more melted metal from her skin, her eyes were locked upon the only male, whose presence greatly agitated her, because he had the gun. Humans. Meddlesome, control freaks foolishly arming themselves with weaponry and blasting away at objects or creatures with trigger-happy-afterthoughts.

There was one little problem though, well not a problem but more of an ego buster- Sanguaze didn't even twitch at their appearance. She was sitting on the floor just like she had been fifteen minutes ago, except now she found herself staring up at one Owen Harper and his teammate, whom she didn't even know the name of. Their guns were raised in front of them, barrels pointed at her as it was apparent that they were expecting the worst of her to jump out of her and maul them. A good safety tactic for sure, but frankly she was in the most passive position possible and obviously wasn't posing any kind of threat at the time, well that's what she thought anyway it was clear that Owen did not. It wasn't hard for her to see the look in his face as he made a split second decision that Sanguaze and her un-speaking counterpart were up to no good, as his gun seemed to wave between the pair of them before, right out of the blue he seemed to come to some kind of recognition and abruptly burst out with an agitated tone.

"Oi! That's my favorite shirt." Owen's guard dropped a little. The connection between him and the bringer of his new life was becoming more prominent in his brain by the second. It felt wrong to be pointing a gun at her. Strangely, it felt rather like he was holding a gun to his own head. Subconsciously, he lowered it slightly, though he was still ready for anything either of them might throw at him.

His favorite shirt? Jesus, twenty first century males were exactly how the textbook had depicted them, one track mind and with the ability to get severely sidetracked from the situation at hand. This thought however, seemed to be quickly dismissed as she looked up towards him, her face blank as a canvas though her mind was brooding heavily with suggestions and thoughts. To Sanguaze, everything seemed to dim her eyes shifting with a mix of incomprehensible emotions as she locked an un-explainable stare back towards him. It could have been considered un-nerving, emotional, persuasive or whatever other word you wanted to use, but the fact remained that it did what it had meant to do - Connect. There was a proven tie between her people, or rather, anyone her people engaged in death walking, they would forever whether wished so or not, share a spiritual bond that could not be broken except upon proper death of one of the individuals. This connection was starting to become quite apparent as Owen's hand seemed to lower subconsciously pointing the gun at less of a direct angle towards her as she could clearly pick up his jumbled up emotions swimming around inside his head.

"Would either of you two ladies like to tell us what the hell is going on?" Owen's gaze flicked between them, and in the corner of his eye he searched for Gwen. If anything kicked off, at least it was two against were even, well, apart from the enhanced alien abilities, like snapping steel like it was polystyrene and that of that stuff. And it looked like the mystery woman's orange haired friend wasn't bad with her fists either. Ok. They were screwed.

Gwen rolled her eyes at his remark, then double taking to see that he had let down his guard. This caused her to put hers a notch up for both their sakes. There were two of them, as her partner's later question had confirmed. She knew the second one not, every alien species being somewhat new to her still since becoming a member of Torchwood less than two year ago was it? There were countless species' according to the Captain. Recognizing the blonde of the two there was a sparkle of interest that had shown when she noticed how much of her looked nearly as good as new. Whatever she was, healing seemed to be up there with the telepathy she had shown earlier and her impressive strength. Why couldn't there be an alien species that made the human race look good? Honestly, just about anything else they came across had some uncanny ability that made their capture complicated. Had it been some regular guy all you need is a gun to threaten with and some standard handcuffs. One thing she hadn't expected from Torchwood was the fact that they hunted some aliens like animals. It was something she never liked, but the aliens they dealt with hardly made things easy anyways. This time they had a choice though. Jack was nowhere in sight, and Gwen trusted the blonde. Slowly she lowered the gun, but it wasn't as if she wasn't ready to aim again.

"Give us your names at least." She gave a glance to Owen before continuing. "Since it's not 'Oi'." Her gaze then rested on Sanguaze again. "Why'd Jack put you away?" It was more of a quieter question, the second one. It was more meant to be a thought given aloud, and it indeed was, just a hint louder than she wanted it to be. She wanted an answer, yes, but did she really want one? Because she didn't want to hear 'I don't know'. It killed her a little already just the thought that Jack would seal up an alien that didn't cause any harm. That's how one makes enemies, and she did NOT want this woman to be an enemy. Her curiosity about the second being wasn't as strong, but it was existent. Were they together or were they simply at the right place (or wrong) at the right or wrong time?

A hiss slipped past Braith bared teeth, behind down turned lips. Demand? An explanation? She could tear him to shreds for such ignorance. But then the other woman spoke, the dark haired brunette. And her head, mechanically jerked in her direction, her fearsome eyes boring into her subtle skin tone and calm, kinder demeanor than her loud colleague.

Good questions, one day Sanguaze would have loved to understand that to, but frankly the whole picture wasn't even clear to her, though really she thought he had been referring to the here and now. Sighing she pulled herself to her feet, stepping back a moment to regain her balance as her head seemed to swim slightly with the lack of nutrition. What? She had not eaten for a good forty-eight hours or so - its one thing to be healthy and not eat; it's another one entirely when you're recovering from near death only half a day before. There was a significantly noticeable crimson stain from where she had been sitting which had also conveniently decided to set into the lower right edge of the jeans she was wearing. Pushing her hair out of her face with her hand she gave a passive glance towards the alien, before setting her sharp green eyes towards the pair. They had both, both Owen and Gwen had asked reasonable questions and she would do the best to give an accurate but, calculated response.

"I broke out of your high security vaults, without letting a single other resident on a rampage across The Hub and went for a walk. Picked up on this girl's wild emotions flying about the place and came up to investigate. I'm Sanguaze Masagzu, seventy first Century - and Jack put me away... well probably because of the threat I – could - be. That and he can't keep his hands to himself, so excuse me Owen Harper, if I didn't feel obliged after re-animating you and tossing my clothes in a bio-hazard bin to run stark naked around The Hub, let alone Cardiff."


	8. One Step Closer

5 Months Ago:  
John Hart yawned, stretched, reached for his gun, all in one swift movement as he awoke from his nap. Well, if you could call it a nap. Some would call it getting shit-faced and passing out in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of Cardiff. He didn't care either way because he was now awake and he wasn't really happy about it. Something, some sound, had awoken him. He rolled up onto his feet, gun out before him as he glanced down to read his wristband. "Oh, for fuck sake!" he exclaimed, as a Weevil came charging at him out of no where. He shot it in the head and it fell to his feet. "Bloody vermin," he spat, tucking his gun into his holster. "Need to have this place sprayed or something. Maybe I'll call Jack and his Eye-candy to come and tend to this." He narrowed his eyes at the thought of Jack's boy-toy.

Jones was a thorn in his side. He wouldn't mind having a piece of the Welshman, but Jack was too proprietary about the twat. He knew Jack, or thought he had known the man, enough to think that this would never last. Nothing lasted with Jack. He was proof of that. It actually disgusted him to think that the former Time Agent had gotten to him the way he had. John never used to get attached to anyone and yet bloody Harkness had not only gotten to him, but was like a drug that he couldn't get enough of. And now, Jack wouldn't even give him the time of day. But John had plans. He'd get back into Jack's good graces if it killed him. It would definitely kill someone, he just hadn't yet decided on who.

Looking around, he checked to make sure he had all his weapons. His sword lay on the ground near where he had been sleeping. He picked it up and tucked it away, turning a slow circle to take in his environment. He always seemed to pick out the best warehouses to pass out in. This one he happened to own. It had large wooden boxes, a dirty floor with leaves and debris everywhere. Along the wall a metal stair led to a door about halfway up the wall. He stretched again and climbed the stair and entered the door. Inside was an office. A bit dusty, disorganized and dark, but it was an office. John walked over to the desk and sat on the dust coated edge of it. He felt a smirk curl his lips as he surveyed the room. He'd purchased this office a few days ago, after going back in time and buying it from some old bloke named Black. So in fact he had owned it for more then a few days, in fact he had owned this for about two centuries..

"Oh, this will do. This will do perfectly," he said, standing up and kicking the papers that were strewn about. He turned and caught the ass print he had left in the dust on the desk. He walked over to it and admired it for a moment. With abroad smile he absently wiped the dust off his bum and pulled a chair up to the piece of furniture. He sat down and put his feet up onto the desk. This would be his home until the time came when he had destroyed everything Jack thought he loved just to show him that he, John Hart, was all the immortal man needed.

**Present Day:  
**That had been months ago. He was still sitting in his dirty warehouse, still plotting revenge but not much else had happened. Luck had surely not been with him. He had managed to clean the place up a bit. Well, he threw all the papers into a pile and burned them in a bin, he got rid of some of the dust and had acquired a sofa to sleep on. Other than that, not much else. So much for his evil lair. Oh, but the shower did have lovely pressure and when he was tired it was so nice on his tense muscles. John had been sitting at his desk when his wristband began to bleep at him. Earlier that day he had set it to detect fluctuations in the Rift and to alert him to strange alien presences. He didn't know when he would either, need a quick ride out of there or meet a new plaything. He didn't really care, he just hated not knowing what was going on and life was becoming so bloody boring, just sitting and waiting.

When it came to aliens in Cardiff, he knew who would be involved and he wanted to be there to watch them fumble around like a bunch of toddlers. Maybe Jack would be there and he could really have a fun night. He jumped from his desk and headed toward the door. He paused for a moment, idly wondering if he should bring some popcorn and make a date of it but snorted at his own thought before turning the doorknob and disappearing down the stairs. Cardiff was so boring, considering that it was on a Rift. One would think that there would be more crazy aliens invading every other day. John had found more excitement while sitting at the cinema watching a marathon of Star Wars movies. And they were pathetic compared to some of the things he'd seen in his life. Though, he fancied himself to be a lot like that Han Solo bloke. Without the furry body-guard. He wondered why he didn't have a furry body-guard and made a mental note to find one.

In his boredom, he had begun to wonder if maybe revenge was completely overrated. Look at Gray, where did his elaborate plot end him? Frozen, while his immortal brother stood over him in repentant watch, or at least that's what happened last time he tagged along with the Scooby gang, anything could have happened since. Was that what he wanted for himself? He saw Jack, once after that, he didn't look to good and Jack didn't share what had happened, but John made him an offer for a Chula Warship. John should have known better, that caused and was still causing some commotion. It was orders above him that wanted Jack to have the warship and his head was on a stake if he didn't get results. This wasn't time to think about _'orders above'_ from someone who he hadn't met yet. The only thing he knew was some with the Time Agents were going down and he had been persuaded to help out.

He stopped in mid-step as the thought struck him. He weighed his options. Forgive Jack for turning his back on him, once more, and go on his merry way, or make him suffer the way he suffered every day. Make Jack feel the loneliness, the emptiness in his heart as he watched the things he cared for become crushed under John's fine, ancient, Italian boots. John pursed his lips as he thought for a whole fraction of a moment. He gave a curt nod and smirked. He chose to crush. If Jack couldn't accept his reasons for helping Gray and he could just turn his back on John without thought or feeling, than he could do the same in return. Hold on, Jack was the one who told him about Gray in the first place, right back when they were training Time Agents.

He continued to walk down the street, glancing at the Vortex Manipulator to see which direction he should head in. He turned left and came face to face with a large building. The readings had become intense and he wasn't foolish enough to enter the building alone. Too many chances of getting caught or dead. So, he scanned the street around him. Across from the building, there was the tell-tale SUV. Torchwood was there. He felt his smirk return once more. Oh, this was definitely going to be interesting. With a graceful lope, he crossed the street and climbed to the top of the SUV. He made himself comfortable, mildly lamenting his choice to not bring a snack. Eventually the people/aliens inside would have to come out. When they did, he would just watch the fun and possibly add to it.

* * *

Doctor Owen Harper had been in so many situations like this. He'd lost count of the times he'd stood in front of people with a gun in his hand, and a fair few of those times he'd been in the company of an alien or two. He'd seen his fair share of crap, and loads more besides. He was King of the Weevils for crying out loud. But it never got old. He would never get bored of this. It was him, it was what he was meant to do with his life... and death apparently. Torchwood was in his veins, in his very core. That was probably a bad thing, and a dangerous one too, but he didn't see that side of the bargain. He just saw the thrills, felt the adrenaline rush and smelt the scent of aliens in the morning. What could be better? Besides, no two calls were the same. Diversity was the name of the game in his job and he was glad of it. It would kill him to sit at a desk and do the same stack of admin over and over again. He'd either throw the computer or himself out of the window. No, he was in the perfect job, with an almost-perfect team, in his not-so-perfect life.

And he was facing the woman who made it all possible - he was pointing a gun at her head (well, not so much her head anymore as her shoulders). It was Torchwood practice, no matter what Jack said or how Gwen tried to change things. Unlike some *cough* Gwen *cough* members of the team, Owen was perfectly comfortable with bursting in guns blazing, or waving as he had once put it. Considering he'd been trained to save lives, he'd got very few morals out of it. Besides, it wasn't like they were attacking blindly, they were just... prepared, suitably so when you haven't got a clue just how hostile your opponent might become. Very rarely did they meet someone, or something, that was completely innocent, and so they adjusted their tactics to fit this observation. They weren't the bad guys that Torchwood members were often painted to be, especially after the Canary Wharf incident. He'd always thought that Hartman women was a bit dodgy, and she'd gone and proved it to the world, taking Torchwood's reputation down with her. Well, as much of a reputation as a secret organisation was supposed to have.

Growling internally at himself for allowing his mind to wander, Owen tried to get himself focused back on the task in hand. However, as soon as he caught Gwen's movement out of the corner of his eye, his mind flicked back to their_'conversation'_, if you could call it that, in the SUV. He guessed he should have expected it from her, sooner or later. He knew that the meaning of life talk had been coming, and he could have bet it would come from her of all people. _/'Owen, I know you just came back but... can you keep living like this? The way your life was, wasn't enough for you, was it? You should have gotten more."/_ Yeah, more time perhaps, and less whining from colleagues... He'd ignored her of course, just carried on driving as if she'd never said a word. He wasn't about to do that conversation when he was behind the wheel - there was a very good chance he would have broken down right there and then. So he'd gritted his teeth and put his foot down, trying to run from his problems yet again. He was good at that, focusing on something else and running away from the truth. If he was ever on Britain's Got Talent, that would be his act for sure. Oh crap, he'd missed the final when he'd been dead. He'd have to search for the results on the Internet later. His money was on the break-dancing kid, quite literally - he'd put fifty quid on him. With any luck a trip down the bookies might be on the cards too.

But this wasn't the kind of stuff he should be thinking about whilst stood in front of not one, but two dangerous aliens. Not by a long shot. At the sound of Gwen's voice, he snapped back to reality, shifting his feet on the floor and clenching his gun a little tighter. Yeah, names, that'd be a good start, though he had assumed they already had the name of their escapee - he'd assumed wrong. The tip of his mouth curled upwards as Gwen made a remark about his earlier exclamation, but his expression flattened when he heard her next question. It was a serious one, one that was still unanswered. Just why did Jack tag her and put her in the cells? When she'd done nothing dangerous, to his knowledge. Jack must know something that they didn't - what a surprise.

His attention switched briefly to the other alien, the one that looked like she was about to punch his lights out. He was starting to think that she wasn't linked to the blonde as much as he had previously suspected. In the stillness of the stand-off, Owen was beginning to analyse everything a little deeper. He saw the distance between them, emotionally and physically. Still, it was difficult to concentrate on her whilst his _'savior'_ was staring straight at him. That strange emotional tie was still burning inside him, forcing him to look at her, to gaze into that expression of hers that he couldn't make sense of. The only snippet of information that he could get from her face was that she was thinking about giving some answers.

And then it came, the explanation. Owen eyed her suspiciously, with his gun lowering subconsciously another couple of inches. So at last he had a name to put to her face, Sanguaze Masagzu. He wasn't about to repeat it out-loud, afraid that he wouldn't be able to pronounce it. He could wrap his tongue around the longest medical term in the english dictionary (which, incidentally is Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, a specific form of lung disease) but he didn't think he could do the same for her name. So, this Sanguaze Masa..., let's just call her Sang, had chosen to directly target him in her little speech. Not Gwen, not Jack (although he guessed she'd have a few things to say to him too from the sounds of it) but him. Figures.

"So why come here? Why run from us if you've got nothing to hide? You could have stayed at The Hub, god knows we've got questions and you've got answers." He paused, as the thought crossed his mind that even if she was innocent and unlikely to harm them, she wouldn't particularly like being chained to a table and tagged with a tracker that was impossible to remove.

Sanguaze could see his confusion mounting, trying to put her name to tongue but visibly deciding against it and instead skirting around it entirely. He then lowered his gun yet again, his aim now focused on a less critical area of her body, namely the left side of her lower abdominal as he seemed to be trapped in her gaze like an animal to a hunter's snare. Taking a step forward gently she placed a hand up in a calming gesture as not to provoke any sudden movements, shifting her gaze for a moment to Gwen before looking back towards Owen, and unaware to everyone else keeping her peripheral vision trained on Braith whom for the moment seemed to be standing quite still.

Braith, well, their meeting had been interesting to say the least. It was quite apparent by her savage emotions were building exponentially to a boiling point and though were currently not being displayed as such it was a large hazard to everyone in the room. She could sense the impeding danger that could erupt at any moment if triggered and Sanguaze ..well being Sanguaze, couldn't let that happen, it wouldn't benefit anything except displaying her as a villain, a threat, a savage and would probably end up with people lying dead on the rotten wooden floor. Glancing to the ground she made a subtle gesture with her eyes towards the mangled screwdriver on the floor, enough to perhaps get the duo in front of her to notice, but not enough to be blatantly obvious. Problem was, they didn't seem to notice and instead Mr and Ms Oblivious still had their attention trained on everything but what she was trying to indicate.

"Why come here you say? Well if having someone shove you through another connected rift in time and space and ironically landing in a radiated nuclear plant wasn't enough, I suppose being chained to a table after risking one's life to bring back a man you don't even know, only to be repaid by being tossed into a dank cell with a immovable tracker might be a valid enough reason to leave." But who knows what these twenty first century primitives considered a valid excuse to someone who comes from fifty millennia ahead of them. "Who…" said Sang "…don't have things to hide?" Well more so, things she shouldn't and couldn't tell them in case of creating an even larger paradox in the time-stream, but everyone regardless of who they are have secrets so why should she be any different? That is true, she could have stayed in The Hub, but frankly, Jack had been anything but hospitable since her arrival, and really, why would anyone want to stay in a place where she is being treated as a criminal with no evidence to prove it to be so?

"If it's Jack you're concerned about, he's out of the picture for the moment. He's gone walkies again apparently." Owen practically scoffed his words, glancing at Gwen before turning back to Sang. "Come back with us?" It was a request, not a demand as yet, but it had a strange quality that Owen would not pick upon, but the others certainly might. It sounded like... he was sort of...pleading, in a way. A part of him, needed her at the moment, even if he wasn't aware of it. How strange...

/Just like old times…/ The cool attitude that happened to be over Gwen at the moment was no coincidence and hardly natural, to those that knew her. Stemming from Owen's silence on the way here to now she had succeeded in minding her own business, just enough to focus on the matter at hand. Tense at the sight of their fugitive, who just announced herself as Sanguaze, she was still ready if need be to pull out her weapon, preferably before Owen could get a shot.

Every passing of silence felt like a direct waste of life and breath, the second sticking away in her brain as she tried to occupy herself with the details of the scene. This was not her forte, but being that trying to understand the people involved was becoming difficult, this seemed the better course of action. The other woman, who had yet to introduce herself as rapidly as Sanguaze, looked to be glaring at her and Owen with seething hatred. They had after all invaded her personal space. There was something about her disposition along the lines of general aggression and annoyance that gave away something that was either great or vise-versa to know; these two women had nothing to do with one another, that was though, if the other was a woman. She had some masculine features, but her posture and facial features gave away a more feminine aspect; she had a higher esteem for herself than one would guess at first glance. Since the blonde they had chased down was speaking more directly to her partner, and her eyes seemed to be on him, Gwen tried to keep her attention on Braith.

She was most likely a civilian, perplexed by the sudden entrance of this strange woman into her home. Upon the examination, which was actually very brief, she noted the mangled metal and melted plastic by her feet, mutilated beyond recognition. Her inexperience with alien matters left her with no suspicious conclusions, because after all, not every resident of Cardiff is an alien (so she hoped).

Quietly? Request? The woman's voice had a better ring than the clicking, indicating her partner was getting a little more comfortable with his weapon._'Don't they always,'_Braith snarled to herself, mentally deciding what would be the easiest and swiftest due course of action. There were three of them. Two together. One affiliated, but apparently alone and chatty. One had a gun. He apparently had not studied as hard as he believed himself. What was he? An officer of the law? What did they call themselves? She still had her eyes fixated upon the dark haired female, with an expression still deeply agitated, still dangerous.

More clicking. She had had enough. Enough talk. Her eyes flicked, rolling in their sockets. She straightening her back, standing long and tall, tilting her head upwards slightly to relieve the bangs from clouding her vision; her eyes fell upon the wielder of the gun. He was the first one to go. She couldn't stand around forever, her muscles demanded movement.

She crossed the room, walking with dedication and prowess towards the unfortunate man. Reflexes required time; time required a lack of speed. She gave him neither. She was not a speed demon, but she was faster than the average. She rivaled him for height, for power in their silent struggle. Her orange eyes leveled with him, marking him. Her hand shot forwards, the bindings had left her long ago, in a pool of ribbons on the floor beside the dead, smoking screwdriver.

It was funny how everyone had the same question in mind; why would Jack put their fugitive away? Sure, Gwen could be...capable of some pretty amazing and dangerous things, no doubt. One who made such an escape after resurrecting someone and surviving large doses of radiation so well was likely to be a hazard if she wished to be. Gwen got the impression that Sanguaze wasn't careless. She simply didn't want to be caged, and who could blame her? Owen was trying to get her to come back calmly, well, how nice. Strongly doubting that she would come along with just that weak defense, Gwen decided to add something to that as well. "And when Jack does come back we'll explain everything." She glanced to Owen, since this would be best supported if he simply agreed. Then she turned to the two women again, only to find that the other was on the move.

How...thoughtful, well Sanguaze suppose Jack was part of it, he was the antagonist in this whole situation and he had attempted to advantage of her shortly after their arrival, though he would argue that a kiss was nothing harmful, not that Sanguaze was about to reveal that event to anyone in the room. Typical Captain Jack Harkness for you. Perhaps Owen was a little higher on Sanguaze's '_not-so-hated-list'_ for his voice was clearly laced with a certain venom and sarcasm that could only represent some resentment towards the man he was now speaking of which was definitely a-ok in her books, however, don't be quick to assume that she cared anything for his well being. ... Suppose that's bullshit as well since she was now connected on emotional level to Owen whether she liked it or not, but it was more of a ...spiritual connection rather then an actual state of utter bliss and caring. Now in regards to his plea, she was considering it...remotely, there was something almost genuine about the statement which was only enhanced by his co-worker's added on words, but yet, something… just wasn't ringing true. Explain what? What did they know that Jack didn't, and who was to say he'd give a rat's ass about what they said about her?

However, Sanguaze didn't get to ponder the rest of that thought as her peripheral gaze caught Braith's sudden movements to her right as she took a step back instinctively, her body going from a passive stance to defensive as the other women had now reached Owen's outstretched gun and was wrapping her hand around the barrel. Idiots, "I tried to show them what was coming" she hissed to herself as the smell of melting steel reached her nostrils and Braith was now staring the pair of them down, clearly for the moment ignoring Sanguaze's presence. This was a bad move on her part, then again, she didn't understand or know of what Sanguaze's abilities were and seemed to be acting on more of a primal instinct of anger and survival then logic at this point.

"If you want to talk," her voice was a low, melodic growl. Braith's fist engulfed the nozzle, in her bare fist. Her powers were on the move again. Eating, melting away. "Then excuse yourselves to the damn street. I suggest you make it snappy."

The woman who had yet to identify herself, was walking nonchalantly towards Owen. She had approached, taken the barrel of his gun and looked to be heating it up in her grasp, way beyond human. Either Gwen's sanity was abandoning her at this very moment or the other woman was indeed just as alien as Sanguaze. Just when she was starting to doubt her earlier assumption that they weren't involved, it was then Braith spoke. In a flash, Gwen had lifted her weapon level to Braith, steady gaze upon the target and finger lightly poised on the trigger. A little too close for comfort; she wasn't willing to lose Owen now, not like this, after he just came back. To die again and so soon would be just plain ludicrous.

Even though they had the guns (though one gun short now), there was little sense in trying to stand up against these two women, though one seemed more reasonable and the other simply wanted them out. Didn't sound like a terrible request, did it? If they had backup, then she'd vouch for staying and question them /both/, mostly the one they just met now sort of. The better course of action came to mind and eventually formed words.

"I think we had better do what she says." Looking to Owen, she wondered if he had any tricks up his sleeve. Just in case however, her hands remained firmly gripped on the high voltage pulse teaser. The setting was already on the highest, but even then it wasn't lethal, not to anything with a slightly greater tolerance than humans. At worst they had a mini crash kit in the SUV.

His words hung awkwardly in the air. Even Owen, whose perceptions had been temporarily pickled by his transformation, knew that several questions were by now buzzing around in the heads of others. The same ones were torturing his own mind, battering against the sides of his skull and smashing into anything else that was rattling around in there - which wasn't a hell of a lot at the moment. He knew Gwen would have something to say to him when they got five minutes of peace. But Owen was fixated on the only conversation that mattered - the one where Sanguaze would tell him just why she thought she had the right to play God with his life. He'd been back and forth that many times, he was starting to develop whiplash. Why him? Why choose him to return when there were so many more deserving people stuck between the realms of life and death. Toshiko. Now, there was no sense in choosing him over her, no sense at all. She was so much better than him, so much kinder. He was a bastard at times, and he knew it. Tosh had never crossed that line, the one that he constantly hopped over whenever he felt like it. This just... wasn't right.

He felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach, winded by grief as he thought of Tosh all alone in the endless black of death. The others didn't understand how soul-destroying, lonely and frightening it was. They'd never been there. Even Jack, who claimed to be the expert on death had only been there for short periods. Owen knew what death really was, he knew what Toshiko was suffering - and that knowledge gave his grief an extra edge. He snatched a deep breath to try and calm himself but he found his mind was running away with him, leaving only the shell of Owen Harper standing in front of two aliens in that Cardiff apartment. Gwen's words washed over him in a strange way. He heard them, but not fully. The sound was muffled and distorted, as if he was underwater. There was no response in him, no reaction of any sort. He missed Sanguaze's hints, as well as those given by her strange friend. The burning hatred in Braith's eyes were lost to him, as was the annoyance clearly shown in her expression. All indications that something was about to kick off, suggestions that should have made him click back into reality. They didn't. He was in the grip of something so much stronger than fear. It was this fierce grip that missed the attack of the second alien, leaving him standing there with a far-off expression whilst she waltzed up to him and wrapped a hand over the barrel of his defense.

It was at this point that he clicked back into life. His mind was forced to think of ways to save his own life, again. Her hand was no doubt melting the metal at the end of his gun, he could smell the distinct scent of the heat doing it's job. He had his finger on the trigger, he could just shoot. He guessed, despite her strange melting powers, that her skin was like any other humans - she seemed humanoid after all. His bullet would tear straight through her hand and into whatever part of her body sat directly behind it - her chest probably. Even if her skin was hardened or something, a fire from his gun would certainly give her something to think about. He doubted he would be able to fight her off -he'd noted both her masculine qualities and the well -worn punch- bag. Owen was handy with his fists, but in his currently weakened state, he didn't want to chance it. He realized he didn't really want to blow a hole in her either, so he acted defensively. With a swift, forceful, yank he pulled the gun out of her grasp with both hands, feeling the strange sensation as the melting metal sucked out of her grip. He tipped his gun in his hand, feeling the difference in the balance of his weapon. His eyes snapped to hers as he squared up to Braith. They were so close, and he had very little defense - he doubted his gun would fire after that sort of attack. But he didn't care.

A flashback pierced his mind sharply, causing him to narrow his eyes as he stared. _He shed his coat as he spat his questions at Lynch. He didn't really care about whatever answer the man gave him. If someone had been in there for three days he wouldn't care, he wasn't doing it for the pay-out. He pushed past Lynch as he dribbled some crap about staring into it's eyes. Owen knew more about what was about to happen to him than that man could even dream of. 'Open the door!' He yelled sharply at the man that hovered around the entrance. Confused by Owen's tone, he opened the door carefully, allowing Owen to barge in and take his place facing her/it/whatever. In the background he could hear the scraping sound as the bolt was locked behind him, and the tick of the clock that counted down the seconds. Slowly, he moved around, eyeing the Weevil with a confident stare before he closed his eyes and allowed a gritted grin to wipe across his features. Breathing in deeply, he egged her on, knowing full well just what horrors would befall him. He hissed his words quietly through clenched teeth. 'Come on.'_

His future then had been decided by Torchwood - they had a habit of doing that. But there was no Jack to blunder in now. Owen allowed a rasping breath to fill his lungs as his eyes locked with Braith's. He had no idea what she was capable of. She could probably rip him limb from limb from this distance away. In fact, with that sort of anger inside her, it was a strong possibility that it would happen. And yet, he had not one shred of fear inside him. It was this deja vu that he guessed had caused the flashback. He had wanted to die then, and there was a part of him that wanted to die now. All this shit would end and he could return to darkness. Something was bubbling in his voice-box, forcing it's way up and battering against the inside of his mouth. Curling his lip and narrowing his eyes even further, Owen Harper tilted his head to the left and let out a low growl. There was no mistaking the sound. Gwen would recognize it immediately and there was probably some instinct within the aliens that would pick up on it too. The hiss rung just like that of a Weevil.

* * *

John was sitting with his legs crossed and his chin settled into the palms of his hands. He could feel himself slowly nodding off and he did believe his arse had gone numb. Sitting on the roof of the SUV while waiting for whatever was up in that building to decide to do whatever it was that it was going to do, was, quite frankly, bloody effing boring. He had been sitting there for the better part of an hour and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should go up there and see what all the fun was about. He idly thought that perhaps Jack was up there and maybe he was missing out on the best orgy of his life. He cocked his head and concentrated on the fourth floor. Narrowing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes and waited.

Nope. No Jack pheromones. No orgy. Damn.

It wasn't as if he had a super human sniffer, but fifty first century pheromones were like none other. He did pause, though. There was definitely something up there that was casting off something, but it was slightly beyond him and he couldn't tell what it was. Again, not like he was some simple bloody dog, just attuned to those sort of things. It was his curiosity that had brought him here, but it was more morbid than genuine. He was semi-hoping that something bad would happen, perhaps Jack would arrive on the scene and he could watch him die and then become reborn. That was always fascinating for John to watch. The first time he'd realized Jack could come back was discerning. The first time he had actually seen the man come back to life was breathtaking. To control life and death to such a degree boggled his mind. He wanted Jack to tell him his secret but the man refused. He wanted to know where he could get one just like it. He wanted to be immortal as well.

* * *

By this point, Owen's companion had now snatched her weapon from her side snapping it up towards Braith at an almost point blank range clearly ready to fire what Sanguaze now assisted as a high powered stun gun rather then one loaded with bullets. Always one to wear her heart on her sleeve that Gwen and Sanguaze reckoned that would be what would get her killed in the end if she didn't stop underestimating situations like these. That day was not to be today however, not while Sanguaze was in the room, for she may have been a potentially dangerous individual but she was not a cold blooded killer. It was only when Gwen stated that it was best that they leave Braith in peace and everyone in the room would drop their guard slightly just for a moment when she struck in a fluid motion that couldn't have been anticipated. Her right arm snapped out in a sharp movement in an attempt to strike Braith's arm and dislodge her grip on Owen's gun, only vaguely aware of the dull thwack of what could be a bullet lodging itself the wooden crossbeams in the roof.

Growling her eyes suddenly seemed to glaze over in pain as Sanguaze let out a sharp gasp her as she stumbled backwards, her eyes dilating into disturbing cat like slits her hair hanging down the side of her face in a savaged fashion. Pressing herself up against the back wall near the door to the balcony her hands found her ankle as she yanked the bottom of her pant leg up towards her knee as a pool of blood was starting to form on the floor of where she was standing. There was now a vicious ring of blood encircling her ankle like a thorned wreath along the path of where the tracking band had been resting, and it looked like the flesh was being eaten away just by the touch of the metal. Seething her passive to heroic personality seemed to shatter at that point as she let out a strangled growl as her hands instinctively went to move the band only to cause her to let go sharply as her now bloodstained hands were turning an angry red from contacting the metal.

"And you wonder why I'm not inclined to come with you. Your Captain is either a complete arrogant fool who messes with technology he doesn't fully understand, or is a sadistic bastard at heart."

She snarled heatedly gesturing to the bloody revolting mess that was her ankle as she bit her teeth choking back the intense pain and smell of burning flesh that was becoming increasingly obvious to one with enhanced senses. Her patience had completely vanished by this point as she tensed, biting her already bleeding lip and darted from her position through the open door of the deck towards the edge. Hesitating only for a moment she thought she might have heard a shout aimed towards her telling her not to do what she was about to, but by this point she was to aggravated and in pain to care. She Jumped. Four stories to be precise, rolling as she hit the ground before pushing herself up off the ash fault without a scratch asides from the blood trail her ankle was leaving in a steady manner. Looking upwards towards the balcony she had just leapt from she gave out a malicious glare before spinning around, her eyes still dilated as she tensed in a manner that showed that she had a feeling she was being watched but couldn't pinpoint from where before taking off at a quite a fast pace for someone who was leaving an epic river of crimson behind her.


	9. Note The Sarcasm

Think about it, to never stay dead. Not only is it practical in his dangerous lifestyle, think of sheer entertainment value. Throwing parties to kill yourself just to keep your guests amused. Not to mention auto-erotic asphyxiation…say no more. John would never leave his warehouse office. He sighed, shook himself from his thoughts and looked around at the empty street. That was one of the many things he noticed about Cardiff. Whenever something was going on, regarding Torchwood, the streets were mercifully empty. Well, there was the occasional bystander. Someone had to point and say, 'They went thatta way!' But, he found, it was usually pretty quiet. This, of course, pushed John's boredom to levels unknown to man.

He leaned back, rummaging through his pockets to see if he had something to play with. If he had to sit here like an errant child, he could at least be entertained. He silently mourned his lack of popcorn as he pulled out a piece of string, a rubber band, a paperclip and a match. He looked at the stash and raised one impish eyebrow in delight. Quickly, he bent the paperclip into a V-shape, attaching the rubber band to the ends. He balled the string and secured it to the centre of the rubber band. With his free right hand, he attempted to light the match. He wanted to light the string ball and shoot it…anywhere. Unfortunately, the match slipped from his hand and fell to the ground, out of sight.

"Shit!" he cursed, plunging his hand into his pocket, searching for another. He leaned back, trying to reach the very bottom of the pocket and lost his balance, falling backward off the SUV.

It was the gasp of Sanguaze that leashed Owen's animistic tendency and caused him to step back from Braith to see where the noise had come from. She had wedged herself against the back wall, holding her ankle that was creating a rather bloody mess on the floor. Immediately Owen moved a few steps forward, his free hand outstretched to help, but something stopped him in his tracks - namely the feline-slits that had replaced her pupils. Her words also held him back. His face dropped a little as she spat out her dislike of Jack - he'd noticed the tracking band. The strap was attacking her ankle, slicing through layers of skin and allowing crimson blood to seep around the band and onto the floor. He blinked in disbelief. He knew that Jack was a little unorthodox sometimes but something like this was ridiculous. Anger burned inside him as she gestured to her ankle but he didn't speak. He was stunned into silence.

He was still silent as she ran for the window. Words of discouragement choked in his throat as she paused at the sill, he didn't move. Only when she jumped did he lunge forward, sprinting towards the window and looking over the edge. His hands gripped the frame as his eyes searched for her body crumpled at the bottom, but instead he found her running across the tarmac. "What the...?" Swinging around to face the others, he ran swiftly for the door, shouting instructions over his shoulder. "Stay here. Call Jack or Ianto, get them to get their lazy rear-ends over here - you'll need backup." There was no word of where he was going or why, but Gwen would guess easily. There was also no unease about leaving her alone with an alien, even one who needed anger management. She could look after herself, plus, he was a little preoccupied.

Standoffs came with the package, naturally, but Gwen hated these moments the worst. Along with actual death it was in these occasional occasions that she found herself in a gap of time and space, where anything can happen and all there needs to be is some catalyst to make it pop. It was then that things became unpredictable, like students in a chemistry class daring each other to pour in their own sort of chemical into the solution. Gwen always opted for the small puff of harmless gas. Owen and Jack had a tendency of causing the explosions.

So she knew there was a single point in which she must interfere, just one second, even a fraction of said second, when the guns will need to be pulled, or the words spoken. Words that actually work for peace rather than drilling for answers. It seemed in a setting like this what they got so far, a name and a very vague concept, were the best they would get. They already tried coercing Sanguaze, as was the name of their fugitive in question. Of course, one of the things Gwen expected her to do in response was already taking action faster than a flash. She had made a very quick exit and Owen, being on his toes after the other woman displayed some rather otherworldly powers, got his hairs standing on end. He acted on lighting fast impulse and made for an exit, shouting after himself.

"Right, fat lot of good they are!" The stress was getting to her, and all she could do was remain here, face to face alone with this strange woman and her intriguing and possibly dangerous abilities. And if that wasn't enough to harm her, there was the fact that she was pumped way beyond what Gwen's tiny physique can handle. Since she had already concluded it was possible for Braith to be inhuman (she hated to think 'inhuman' but she wasn't sure if alien was appropriate just yet), there might be more than just instant metallurgy that this woman might be capable of. So should she leave? She was being given a chance to retreat, no harm and no foul. This person, though she melted Owen's gun, didn't look like she was out to get anyone, but then again working out as vigorously as she was, she might just be getting ready to do so. She could try buying herself some time. Though she made it clear that she wanted none of their business, Gwen had already put her taser away. Her body language (which she kept very strong tabs on being a former officer) showed little threat. Not completely meek or powerless, but at the same time, there might as well be a white flag hanging over her head.

As John lay on the pavement, splayed on his back and staring up into the black sky, he silently hated himself. He could have been back at Black Ice, his bar, the bar he purchased the same time as the warehouse, from the same Black family. Though the bar had a bit of temporal differences! Getting pissed and enjoying a hummer from one of the choice birds he employed. Besides, tonight was ginger night and that crazy broad with the dragon tattoo on her back would be there. She was always fun to play with. Instead of staring at the inky sky, he could be staring at gaudy lights and tits. Mainly, tits. He liked those. He earned his time in sex rehab for sure.

When he had purchased the warehouse, he had also purchased the one across the street. That one he had turned into a club. Rave/dance/go-go…whatever the popular term was currently, he couldn't be arsed to remember. Apprently it was some sort of gentleman's bar, back in its heyday. All he knew was that it kept him financially set so he could pursue his other interests, namely, revenge or orders from above. It had everything. Girls dancing, girls singing, girls bar-tendering and lots of pretty men to boot. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have that piece of Eye-Candy in his grasp right now. He would do things to that man just to hurt Harkness. Just to show him that no one was better than John Hart.

He jerked slightly out of his thoughts and scrambled to his feet, using the SUV for cover. He had heard something land on the pavement and pad off. Through the glass of the windscreen he could see a blonde running down the street, bare foot and bleeding. Now what is this? He thought, as she ran out of his range of sight. He needed to follow, he needed to see what she had to do with Captain Jack and his band of Merry Tools. He glanced up to where she had obviously come from and noted that nothing from this planet could have survived the way that blonde had. Even without his wristband, she wasn't hard to follow. She'd left a trail of blood that was easy enough for a blind man to see. He could smell her fear in the air and with a sadistic smirk on his lips, he knew he needed to get to her before Torchwood.

Ignoring the creaks and splintering wood, Owen leapt down the stairs with only a small percentage of the care he had taken to climb them. Reaching the bottom he ran through the door and round the back of the building, with very little idea of how he was going to find her - considering she'd already gotten a considerable head-start on him. He needn't have worried - her trail was quite clearly bathed in scarlet. Raising his gun, he pointed it at a thick bush and tested the trigger. It fired well enough, rattling the leaves as the bullet imbedded itself firmly into the foliage. Satisfied that he'd at least got some security, he picked up his pace, and followed the steady stream of blood all the way to the Warf where he finally slowed. He could see her, limping awkwardly towards the water. Deciding to give her space, he edged slowly closer as she dipped her bleeding leg into the waters of the bay. Owen tried to move quietly, but even through her pain she'd sensed him, stopping him in his tracks.

Sanguaze at first had been moving in an un-designated manner eventually finding herself looking down towards an abandoned dock along the edge of the Cardiff Bay Warf, before making her way at a now staggered and limping pace along the sopping waterlogged wood panels seating herself with an ungraceful plop along one of the edges when she couldn't move any further. She didn't have to turn her head to know that the blood that marked her 'not-so-great-escape' was enough to have felled any normal individual by this time, but at this point the only thing that on her mind was the pain which was now starting to decrease into a numbing sensation as she placed her bare-leg into the fridged water, uttering a low hiss. The water around her leg was turning an instant visible red in the clear waters that surrounded it as Sang gingerly brushed a strand of hair from her now quite paleface only stopping as she heard the audible footsteps of a man. They may have been trying to be quiet, but that was like asking a blind person to read when you considered Sanguaze genetic traits. Her voice was now coming out in a low almost threatened rumble, as she drew her foot out of the water and stood up teetering slightly trying to find her balance as her posture turned into a semi-aggressive defensive stance. There was nothing more dangerous [asides from a threatened mother and child] then a pissed off, injured seventy first century female, and right now, she didn't seem to care who or what was now on the dock with her except that it would be a world of pain if she wasn't left alone.

"Stay the fuck away from me, or I'll rip you limb from limb."

John followed her all the way to the docks. She was sitting by the water and John knew that nothing human could have survived that much blood loss and he was slightly interested in finding out if she needed assistance. Not like he was a gentleman, but he couldn't stand seeing someone in a situation that didn't make sense. Also, he was nosy and needed to know why she was bleeding and why she was jumping out of buildings and running from Torchwood. He didn't want to startle her, though. He kept to a large group of packing crates, watching her from a distance. Glancing at his wristband, he noted that she was wearing alien tech and it wasn't anything good. For fuck sake, he thought, realizing that she was wearing something so deadly. He idly wondered if Jack had lost his bloody mind or was just that clueless. He hoped it was insanity. He could handle insane people. Clueless people just deserved to be shot and we all know how useless that would be concerning Harkness.

John had no idea what that creature was, but he knew she was hurt and needed help. Also, if Torchwood was interested in her, he was interested in her as well. Taking a step out of the shadows, he could hear a set of footsteps. He knew that his ancient Italian boots made no sound on the pavement, so it couldn't have been him, so he quickly retreated back into the shadow. One of Jack's minion would no doubt emerge and 'save the day'. He felt bile rise in his throat at the thought. John felt the small hairs at the back of his neck stand to attention when he heard her say she'd rip the person coming from limb to limb. No, he would stand back and watch. He needed to see who they had sent out to catch this beauty and he would step out of the shadows and play the conquering hero if need be.

Owen's face was serious, but he wasn't afraid anymore. He felt calmer around her than Braith. His melted gun was still in his right hand, but his arm was loose by his side - he didn't need it...yet. If he'd have known who was lurking in the shadows his guard might have been raised considerably, but for now he was unaware. He was a sensible distance away from her, but they were close enough for her to be able to hear his hushed words. "Go ahead, you'd be doing me a favour." Swallowing the lump in his throat he raised his voice to a normal level. "But that would be undoing all of your hard work, wouldn't it?"

The footsteps grew progressively closer as John stood stone still in the shadows. Whoever it was, they were causing 'Blondie' to get really agitated. John wasn't sure which side of this equation he fit into, but he was going to find out why that pretty thing was bleeding and how she could survive jumping out of a four story building. He turned his full attention to the person walking toward Blondie and felt the urge to scream and stamp his foot like a child. Walking onto the dock was none other than the formerly dead, Owen Harper. What the fuck? Is everyone in bloody Torchwood immortal? he thought, his inner voice sounding extremely bitter and petulant. Last time he'd been in contact with Jack, Owen Harper had been melted down for scrap metal at Turn mill Nuclear Power Station. Seeing the man walking onto the dock area only made his anger toward Torchwood that much stronger. Who were they to control the power tore turn from the dead? He wanted that ability as well.

John narrowed his eyes at the man. Did he want to be dead? What hard work would she be…oh, wait…what the hell was this woman? He refocused his eyes on the blonde. She seemed to be something completely foreign to him and yet, she was something as familiar as his own skin. She was like a cord, wound too tight. One slip and she would snap, lashing out at the man who was approaching her. Part of John wanted to see that carnage. The other part thought it best to see if he could get them apart. He surely couldn't get what he wanted from Torchwood if he began allowing their minion to get picked off by other creatures. Besides, he wanted to do that himself.

Sanguaze had heard him despite her weakened condition, he had tried to be quiet it was obvious now but said before that was a futile act around her. She had then lashed out verbally, back still turned away from his semi hunched position her voice ringing in tinged anger and aggression and perhaps a slice of fear. Her mind was swimming at this point, struggling to keep things together as she started to bleed out all over the dock once again but clearly at this point not feeling anything, the classic sign of someone in danger of collapsing under sever blood loss. She was dangerous at this point, rationality wasn't exactly the top thing on her mind as she let out a loud animal like growl and tensed, visibly fighting to keep…something in check, something Owen really didn't want to face off against because he would literally be in pieces by the end of it if he did and deep down she didn't want to be known as a murderer.

Then he spoke, despite his attempts and clear thought's of not being scared she could hear the slight quaver in his voice as his words came out first hushed slowly rising to their brash bold tone that was well, very Owen. How dare he! Yes in a sense it would undo her work, but then again, she had only done this to remove the snare around his soul so to speak was free. It had then been up to him whether or not his calling was truly death or not. Owen however did not know the fine details in the day in shoes of a death-walker so really you couldn't blame his confused state. But Sanguaze did. She wasn't in a merciful mood anymore, she was scared, instinct driven and very well capable to do exactly what she had stated only moments before. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled as her she then pivoted around towards him before stepped forward tipping her full weight onto injured leg oblivious to how stupid of a move that really was.

Survival, the flight or flee instinct, that's what was coursing the overdose of adrenaline through her system at this point as she swung her other leg forward making a determined and un-naturally fast pace towards him, slopping blood allover the deck in the process. Sanguaze only stopped a few feet from him but the look that was now blazing across her emerald green eyes would have been enough to slap anyone across the face and have them come out of it dazed. She knew what he had said was utter bullshit to him deep down despite what he was telling himself currently and that currently all he was thinking about was his own selfish needs. Why him? Moan, whine, gripe, blame. Males, they seemed to be all the same, even with their sense of control in her century they still in the flesh were the same. Can't live with them, can't live without them, always shades of grey, never black and white.

Her lips curled back in an unpleasant gesture something that could be considered a deformed child of disgust and smug confidence as her gaze was contented to continue its steely gaze on his own features just daring it to fight back. He may have been the kid on the block with the baseball bat, but she was the wife who carried the sawed off shotgun in plain view. Shaking quite visibly from what couldn't really be determined between rage and the fact that every moment that seeped by her complexion became more like a sheet of printing paper that had been waterlogged and hung out to dry wrinkled and ripped it was clear to see she was ready to erupt. Literally.

"A favor?! Bullshit, you know as well as I do that if I backed money to those words I'd be a millionaire within the next half hour." She was hissing at this point as she took another step forward aggressively, not caring at this point if she ended up with a barrel sticking into her chest, as her body moved from just outside of what would consider their personal bubble, tearing through the invisible barrier until she was almost flush up against him. If one was to sit down and draw this as a comedy strip for this weeks Sunday news, Sanguaze would be the one depicted with cartoon steam billowing from very orifice, inflamed cheeks and her hands moving unnaturally fast by her sides in a fit of rage that's how wrapped up in this she was. Blame it on Owen, and Jack for provoking the matter, or how about whatever douche had shoved her into the rift and altered the location in the process landing her here where she didn't belong in the first place.

John John almost snorted out loud. He liked her, she made him laugh. But this wasn't a laughing moment. He was fixated on her complexion. She was growing paler by the minute. John wasn't a caring man, but he was a nosy son-of-a-bitch. He wanted to see how this panned out and he wanted to see how she fit into Torchwood. She couldn't die, not now at least. He listened as she continued

This was great. Just fucking great. Owen was on his own, facing a severely pissed off alien, with a melted gun and no backup. He dare not call Ianto. First of all, Owen needed tea-boy to go straight to help Gwen, and secondly, there was the tiny little problem that Ianto Jones didn't know that his old colleague was alive again. After all, his death had seemed pretty finite this time around. There was no resurrection glove, slash 'risen-mitten', to save him (in inverted commas of course). He couldn't blame the others for giving up on him - he'd given up on himself. So... there was absolutely no way he was going to call on Ianto for a ten minute long domestic, consisting of a lot of disbelief, before he'd actually be any help. As unappealing as that sounded, he still more likely to call Ianto than Jack. He really didn't want to see that guy for a while, and something told him that the Captain wasn't high on Sanguaze's list either. Nope. He'd only call on Jack if it was a life and death situation, and maybe not even then.

He watched her so carefully, and quietly - for him. His eyes scrutinized every muscle she moved. As he tried to pick up on exactly what she was feeling. He needed to attempt to anticipate her. Trouble was... emotions weren't Owen's forte, and neither was perception on that sort of level. Apart from pain and anger (they were just slightly obvious), he was at a loss as to how to read her. Still, if there was one emotion he had a hope of tackling, it was anger. Heck, he'd dealt with his own enough. Well... when he said dealt...He knew she could completely flip at any moment, and then absolutely anything could happen. People tend do crazy things when they're stressed and hurt. Aliens... well, they could do just about anything. Nothing would surprise him any more. She could sprout wings and breathe fire and he'd barely blink. That's what Torchwood did to people. It disengaged its employees with normal beliefs and aspirations, and gave them an extra-ordinary level of tolerance for the weird and the... he was going to say wonderful... but perhaps that's not the word.

Owen had to physically prevent himself from wincing slightly as she spat her words at him. For a moment, all this felt completely wrong. She shouldn't be shouting at him, he shouldn't be blocking her exit on the jetty and he certainly shouldn't be worried about how effective a bullet would be against her. In that moment, he was thoughtless, motionless and defenseless. If Captain John had realized he'd had such an opening, that could have been the end of Owen Harper. Thankfully though, the lapse was just seconds long and here covered quickly enough to wipe a harsh expression over his face. Was it bullshit? He didn't think it was. But he didn't know it was, if that makes any sense. He'd been prepared to die so many times; in that cage with the Weevil, holding the pulse at Parker's bedside, when they were faced with a sleeper-cell attack, and at the nuclear plant - even if acceptance had taken a while. He was no longer afraid of death. If there was some way that he could swap positions with Toshiko, he'd take it in an instant. Maybe he was becoming less selfish? Nah.

"You have no fucking idea what I do Owen Harper, so how dare you criticize my actions. I don't go around playing God to any Sarah, Dick or Jane, and I didn't do this as a favor to you, Jack or anyone with a sentient conscience. I did what was right, I unhitched your snared soul, that by the way Jack fucked up in the first place, though I'm not sure how, it was obvious he did something, and then gave you a subconscious choice, on a level you couldn't even possibly begin to comprehend to either properly die or come back to life." Samguaze voice had risen to a crescendo at this point, and in movies it would be now that the snarling hero would break down upon her knees in a sobbing ball begging to be held and comforted for what she had done. This wasn't the movies, and Sanguaze sure as hell despite her speech felt anything but the glorious hero. She was doing her obligated duty and in that respect it was anything but glamorous, in fact she feared it. Anyone who was stupid enough not to, wasn't fit for the burden in the first place, and would be shown no pity as they would never be able to pursue that part of their spiritual heritage.

As of John wasn't already interested, that name, Jack, brought him to full attention. John leaned back on his heels and pondered this for a moment. Jack had done something to piss this pretty bird off. Good. He also did something to fuck up Harper's soul. Interesting. She brought him fully back to life. Wow. Blondie was definitely interesting and she didn't sound like she was too impressed with one Captain Jack makes two of us, love, he thought.

Far from being blank, Owen felt his body tense as she continued her barrage of words. He took a deep breath in to calm himself as his fingers slipped into position around the trigger of his gun. He didn't raise his arm. He was not poised to shoot, he just needed a little assurance. Anger flooded into him and wrapped itself around his gut, tightening it's hold as he took in what she was saying. So he had no fucking idea did he? Well it works two ways you know, sunshine. She didn't have any idea about what he'd been through. He felt himself square up to her, it was a subconscious reaction but he didn't correct his posture after the moment of realization.

He was scrutinizing Sanguaze, assessing every adrenaline set movement she took which were followed by her wracked breathing as she heaved in the salty Warf air. He had been abnormally quiet for well…Owen when she had risen to her feet storming over towards him to give him exactly what was on her mind. These thoughts minus several un-comprehendible words from her native tongue…that really well you wouldn't want to understand them...really you wouldn't. He was dead on her being stressed, angered and ready to flip though, then against anyone who had the intelligence of a barn door could have figured that out, but lets not ruin the fun shall we? She had then proceeded to invade his space eyeing him in a vicious fashion as she let her words rip, seizing the chilled air around them, sheers to a sheep's fleece.

He was flinching then as she erupted her words lashing out to him, vinegar to an open wound as if she had really been paying attention she would have noticed his grip tighten around his gun as he attempted to sooth his already fried nerves. She didn't care that he was now squaring her up as she stepped back, sweat lacing her body in a slim coat of film, apparently not injured enough in his eyes to be a threat despite her lack of nutrition for over forty-eight hours and two near deaths. She knew it was coming, but as you can probably figure out Sanguaze was pretty much ready to take anything that was dished out at this point, dished out and served back with a side of bloody knuckles and a black eye for desert.

"You don't know me" Owen practically snarled his words, perhaps the Weevil in him had yet to be completely silenced. Either way, his tone was accusing, cold and hard. If she could flip, so could he.

No Sanguaze didn't know him, not on the level he was describing. No, she knew him on a level he didn't even understand himself, something he would not, or perhaps could not comprehend. Something so mystical mere mortals might consider it the holy grail of Christ himself, or perhaps a form of witchcraft, if you believed in such things that is. That or she could just be some whacked out alien female with the ability to walk into death and come back out alive relatively in one piece. Either way there was something in the tone of his voice that was almost, inhuman that seemed to register to her, granted only for a moment or two before it was shoved to the back of her mind to assess later as his lips rounded up around his teeth and another barrage of words came spiralling out towards her.

"And bollocks to that load of tripe. I bet you enjoy the power you have, lording it over us mere mortals with the old 'bringer of life' routine. Jack hasn't screwed me up, you have. He didn't know what he was doing, how it would tear me apart. You knew every step of the way. And you don't give a shit." Owen would never thought he'd end up defending Jack, but hey. Everything was true, she'd said as much. He was just a random person to her, just another 'unfortunate' soul that she'd decided to save on a whim. He was nothing to her. Heck, he was nothing to anyone anymore. When he was slumped against the cold wall of the autopsy bay, confused and weak, no-one gave a toss. Not even Gwen Cooper, the so-called heart of Torchwood, offered him any consolation, and Jack had done nothing but non-nonchalantly piled grief onto his pile of things to deal with. These people were meant to be his friends. Staring straight into the eyes of Sanguaze, Owen felt the anger turnover in his stomach. She'd brought him back to this. All this was her fault. For a minute, he was almost glad she was in pain - but not quite. He wasn't quite that sadistic.

"You chose life, and I obligated myself to give you that chance despite the fact I almost died twice over. So screw you and your belief that you don't care for life." It was only then something started to scream at the back of Sanguaze mind that they were not alone ass he fought to hide that consciousness physically, as she shifted her gaze in her peripheral vision, breathing deeply and indeed picking up the scent of another. It was clearly male, but not twenty first century, but not as strongor animalistic as her own century, if Sanguaze was to waver a guess it was the pheromones of around the fifty first century or so. However, for some reason instead of indicating the individual's presence she contented herself to remaina quaking enraged mess which would surely do a proper job of covering her knowledge of being watched as she side stepped slightly and took a slight step back. Then she was right back to where she had been before, sans any verbal actions, as her left fingers gripped the splint and bandages of what was apparently the result of absorbing Owen's injuries on her right hand, tearing it off in anagitated manner, flexing her now what seemed to be fully functional fingers with only a slight stiff sensation.

How dare he accuse of her of such things, she could have blamed it on his rash twenty first century brain that really had no idea what her planet and time was like, but frankly she wasn't about to let any bullshit slide past her at this particular moment in time. Jack didn't know what he was doing? That's -exactly- what Sanguaze had been getting at here, the lack of caution or responsibility for ones actions. She wouldn't have had to come 'lording in' as he put it if Jack had done his job right the first time and just had let his comrade die properly instead of mucking around with alien technology which could manipulate people on a level he could never grasp. Not cared? She wouldn't have done what she did if she hadn't cared on some level, she cared about the balance that had to be maintained within an individual, and whether or not she liked it she was now forced to care for Owen on a very spiritual level. Call it an ancestral guide or something…

"Enjoy it? Is that really what you honestly think? Well I've got news for you hun, if you wanted to swap and take over my duties you'd be welcome to risking your neck for morons. Oh wait! You're so emotionally dense in that region a donkey's ass could do a better job then you could, then again you are half mule…" She hissed with a tinge of malice as those words sprung from her mouth and they almostfelt wrong, she knew why of course, any wrong doing to one you've 'saved' felt like a blow to the gut with a set of brace knuckles but it didn't stop her. Sanguaze had two hundred and twenty five years under her belt, all those years of learning from her mistakes, acquiring new skills and learning how to best deal with unwanted side affects of her actions. You didn't actually think her species had perfect lives now did you?

"My fault? How is it my fault that you have admitted that your Boss didn't know what the hell he was doing when he attempted to bring you back? If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have had to do what I did Owen Harper, but its not the first time he's been either sadistic or negligent has it?" She gestured with her leg hand as it stuck out towards the ground towards her seeping foot which had progressed into a now slightly charred, blood-soaked mess around her ankle. Her frame was now visibly shaking from exhaustion as her hair was matting in place around her for-head, sticking to her perspiring skin turning patches of her golden locks into a deep brown from the accumulation of moisture. Earth to Doctor Owen Harper, despite her being alien there is only so much an individual can take and your clearly missing the bull's-eye this time, scratch that you're missing the target completely. All through this charade, she had been keeping tabs on the figure lurking in the shadows of the packing crates behind Owen, still unsure of his intentions but was about to find out that perhaps luck might be on her side that day.

John definitely needed to get Harper away from her. She was someone he wanted to get to know. And she wasn't bad looking either. But he could hear the change in her breathing and he tried to see better in the dim light. He couldn't tell if she was failing life or if…oh shit! She had sensed him. She was good, though, he had to admit. He watched her take a deep breath and catch his scent. He held his own as he waited to see what she would do. A creature like her, feral and afraid, could either lash out and attack the lot of them or she could be subtle and wait. He watched as she shifted and did what he had hoped. She seemed to be waiting to see what happened. If only Harper could figure out that she was dying. Brilliant fucking Doctor, that one, he mentally shouted.

John needed to get the walking-dead-man out of the way and try to help Blondie. When he had followed her onto the dock, she had been limping. The blood was coming from her leg and her foot was bright red. He was amazed she was still standing, probably only doing so by the sheer force of adrenaline. He had a sudden idea, hoping she could sense his intentions and not that he was just as useless as the doctor. John moved his head slightly, giving her an opportunity to really see him in the shadows. It was a small movement, but if she could sense him already, it would be enough. He took a deep cleansing breath, clearing his mind. His intentions clear in his thoughts as he moved his hand over to touch his wristband.


	10. Nightingale Sings

**A few hours ago at Torchwood One…**

Martha sat at her desk, cup of tea in her hand. She hadn't been able to drink coffee since the last time she was in Cardiff. Ianto Jones had ruined her for life. So she drank simple tea, no sugar, bit of milk. It was warm and had caffeine, that was all she needed to know at the moment. Everyone had been going insane since Rose Tyler's disappearance. She had exhausted all her leads and now she needed some quiet to think. Unfortunately, other cases were also taking precedence and she was technically one man short. Some days, she wondered why she left U.N.I.T. in the first place. Loads less stress. She smiled at the photograph that sat beside the monitor. Tom Milligan, her fiancé, smiled back at her. She missed him. It had been months since she'd last seen him, even though he did call her every night. She wished she could get a whole moment to plan her wedding. They hadn't even set a date. Her mother could just about kill her over that simple fact.

Throwing a wink at the picture, she turned her attention to the computer screen, quickly typing her name and password to access Torchwood's database. As soon as she hit the enter a large message appeared on the screen. It was a letter, no, a book written by Mickey Smith. It was rather thorough and explained his reasons for going AWOL. She narrowed her eyes at the words as she read them. She wanted to be mad at him, wanted to hunt him down and drag his scornful ass behind back to London, but she couldn't. She understood why he left. She knew, if it were Tom, she would have done the same.

What Mickey wasn't understanding was that no one had given up on finding Rose. Jackie and Pete just needed something to distract them. Tony was suffering from his parent's obsession. It wasn't fair to the kid. She and Sarah Jane had to deal with other cases. They would all have loved nothing more than to continue focusing all they had on finding Rose, it was just that, they couldn't. Not without going insane. The leads had gone cold and Martha would jump on any slight hint of a lead, if one were to come to her attention. But nothing did. She also knew she couldn't let him go it alone. He needed backup and well, even though the group had, as a whole, voted against involving Torchwood Three, she hadn't been fully against it. She adored Jack and knew he would move Heaven and Hell to bring Rose back.

With a deep sigh, she plucked her mobile off the desk and punched some keys.

"Hullo, love," she said to the weary voice on the other end. "Were you sleeping? I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you that I'll be in Cardiff for a bit." She paused, listening. "Yeah, I will. I'll call you when I'm settled." Again, she stopped to listen, a soft smile crossing her lips. "I love you too, Tom. I miss you. Bye." She rang off, staring at the mobile for a moment before hitting some more buttons.

This time, her expression was more pensive as she waited for the other line to pick up. "Hullo, mum. No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to tell you that I'll be out of town for a bit." She sighed, loudly, while Francine began to rant at her. "Yes, mum, but…I know I haven't set a bloody date!" she yelled down the line. This only managed to rile Francine up and Martha held the phone at almost arms length. She could still hear her mother's voice telling her off. When she thought there might have been a break, she chanced to put the phone by her ear. "Mum, I have to go to work. If Tom is all right with me 'gallivanting across who-knows' then you should be as well." Again, she paused and had to fight the urge to scream. "No, I'm not going off with the Doctor, again. This has nothing to do with him," she half-lied. It was hard to know if it was a lie, considering Rose Tyler was involved. "Mum…mum…MUM!" she shouted again, trying to get Francine to stop. "I'll only be in Cardiff. Not Istambul or Alpha Centuri, so please, calm down. I didn't have to tell you, you know." She was right angry with her mother now. She knew her mother meant well, but it didn't change the fact that the woman was so over-protective. She knew why, it was because of the year they had spent on the Valiant, but that didn't change the fact that Martha had chosen a career that kept her in the middle of that lifestyle and Francine needed to learn to deal with it. She glance at her watch. "Mum, Tom is up, why don't you call him and tell him what a terrible daughter I am. Maybe you two can set a date. You plan the wedding and I'll just show up. Happy now? I've got to go." Not waiting for a response, she cancelled the call. She knew she would pay for that later, but she needed to find Mickey.

Standing up, she snatched up a few items from her desk and went off to the archives to grab a few essentials before heading off to Cardiff.

* * *

**Present Time:**

John Hart was a devious bastard. He was sick and twisted and never turned down a single opportunity. This wasn't always good, but sometimes, in moments such as this, it was a lifesaver. John liked to record everything he did. He could review the recordings, look for information he may have missed, slip-ups from his enemies, or, in a case like this, just cause general havoc. He quickly went through the catalogue in his mind and remembered a certain Eye-Candy that he had, had a brief moment with. He would use Ianto Jones' voice to confuse Harper and hopefully get him away from Blondie.

The wristband projected the voice he was looking for and he used his position near the packing crates to bounce the sound around them. Harper would have no idea where it was coming from. "Owen? Gwen?" Ianto Jones' voice called. He sounded in control and John wished there had been a slight quiver to the Welshman's voice. That would have been truly priceless. The voice did exactly as he had hoped. He was behind the couple, slightly to their left. The voice projection sounded like it was coming from both his far right and from Cardiff Bay itself.

Owen didn't notice a change in Sanguaze as she sensed John's presence - why would he? He didn't have freaky extra-sensory stuff, he was good old-fashioned human. And so he remained completely oblivious to the Captain's presence on any level. Even if he had known that someone was skulking around in the shadows, that particular name wouldn't spring to mind. Captain John was a threat, and there were very few exits for threats from Torchwood. Dangerous beings either ended up detained, frozen, retconned until they couldn't remember their own mother, or dead. And so he'd assumed that John had been dealt with, and was either dead or in some other situation in which he was contained safely. Not wandering the streets of Cardiff.

He froze, when he heard his names over the comm systems. The voice was one he knew so well. Ianto's 'beautiful Welsh vowels', as Jack called them, were distinguishable against any backdrop. The bloody idiot had come this way, rather than to Gwen. And what had he found - a guy who he thought was dead, angrily growling nonsense at a volatile alien. Just your average city scene. Owen's brain tried to tackle the new situation, wondering whether or not he would look more in control if he raised his gun. His right arm twitched as he changed his mind a few times before deciding to settle for a tighter grip on the metal. He didn't need to prove himself to the office-boy, even if he'd probably go running to Jack with tales of Owen's incompetence. Besides, there was no reason for Ianto to stick around, considering Gwen was on her own in that apartment building with a martial arts extra-terrestrial for company. He was about to call instructions over his shoulder when he realized that something just wasn't right.

Johndecided to throw another, just for good measure.

"Why are you doing this?" Again, Jones' voice called out from nowhere and everywhere at once. A sadistic smile curled his lips as he remembered the moment, holding Eye-Candy at gunpoint, pushing him inside that lift. If he had only known then just how much the little shit meant to Jack, he would have killed him on the spot. He may just do that someday, but not now. Now he had to save the beauty from the beast. He gave another slight movement with his head. He lowered it in a submissive move. He wanted the beautiful creature to know he wasn't trying to hurt her.

For good measure, he through the first bit out again. "Owen? Gwen?" John smiled as the sound of those Welsh vowels rang around the dock. He smiled knowing that he was using Jack's boy-toy to try to mind-fuck Harper. It was a good feeling.

Ianto's next question, that wasn't right either. It didn't fit. Owen doubted very much that would be Ianto's first comment when he clapped eyes on a dead man walking. Besides, from what little he'd picked up from Gwen's babble in the SUV on the way here - Ianto was full of cold and wasn't doing great with clear pronunciation as a result. The words that had just rung out into the chilly air were perfectly comprehensible. Something was up, but he wasn't about to take his eyes off Sanguaze to find out exactly what it was. What a minute - Sanguaze! It was in her interests to have his attention averted. From what he had seen of her so far, an injury like that wasn't going to hinder her for very long. He reckoned she could be at his throat in mini-seconds, and he wasn't about to chance it. He wasn't about to let her win.

'Let the games begin', John thought to himself. From the shadows, he watched the chaos that he had created unfurl into madness. It was actually quite beautiful, watching Harper work out the obvious. Of course, Eye-candy wouldn't really be there. Not like Jack would let something that pretty off a short leash. Harper's face seemed to be working through his confusion of the voices, but his conclusion baffled even John.

"What the hell?" His eyes focused on Sanguazes, his gaze was intense and accusing. "How about you stop playing silly beggars now? It's wearing thin darling." He took a step forward, edging closer to her as his eyes narrowed. He was getting severely pissed now, the kind of pissed that he generally got when he hadn't got a clue what the hell was going on.

He thought the bird was doing it? John sighed, not caring if he was even heard at that point. The idiot really thought that the woman was capable of producing a voice that just happened to be of someone he knew? Really? Talk about grasping at straws. But what if she really could do that, wouldn't that be…fracking awesome! He shook himself from his thoughts of a multi-talented cohort/concubine and leaned against the packing crate to see how she would react to Harper's ranting.

It was an immediate struggle to control the charge that leapt through Sanguaze body in slight start as she bit down on her lip sharply, splitting open the bottom section of skin in the process as the moment passed quickly over her and the clammy exterior that was her soon asserted itself once again. Luckily at the sound of clearly welsh voice that was bouncing off the surroundings, Owen had froze at the same time that Sanguaze had reacted, masking the unexpectedness of it all as she ran a quick assessment over him in his distracted state. She could almost see all the cogs turning inside his head as he tried to sort out exactly where the voice was coming from before that look that was well known to be Owen's 'there-in-it-together' look plastered itself across his posture and features in a fraction of second. Oh great, she knew what he was going to assume, once again it was her fault, because apparently this time she was now digging around inside his head, pulling out conversations he was never around to hear and projecting them into thin air. How daft can you honestly get?

His voice was thoroughly tinged with agitation now, as he took a step closer to her in a manner which was egging her on to completely snap. Snarling she stepped forward to close the gap between the pair of them in a clearly hostile manner, her eyes flaring into cat like slits signalling any rational individual to arm themselves or get the hell out of the way. She was seething as she flexed her knuckles in an attempt at self restraint before jolting forward, shoulder aimed to contact his own as she moved forward at a viciously laboured pace past him a few steps before staggering towards the handrail for the walkway off the dock. Left hand gripping the guard rail she panted, her frame wracked with every inhalation as her grip around the metal tightened profusely leaving a very visible dented impression on the metallic surface when she removed her hand from the rail.

"You want me to come back? Make me."

It seemed to Owen that he'd spent most of his life like this. Not in front of a hostile alien, that was only the last four or so years, but instead it was the emotions currently coursing through him that he felt the affinity with. It wasn't a comfortable affinity, but it was something that had stuck fast to him from a very early age. He prone to sink frighteningly easily into bouts of rage, and he knew it - but it was a hard character trait to break, and so he'd given up trying. His colleagues at Torchwood knew better than anyone that Owen could be baited into almost any argument, and that he also started a fair few of his own. Scratch the surface, and he was as bullheaded as the next man, perhaps even more so, and often needed to be physically removed from an argument - because there was no way that his brain would allow him to back down. Anger was intertwined into his soul, and although it didn't feel... right, exactly, it was his safety net. Confusion however, was not a part of him in that sense. It was not safe, or correct and he hated the feeling of it washing over him. It was unsettling, even for a man that has had all kinds of crap thrown his way and lived to tell the tale (well, kind of). The thing is... when he gets confused, he gets pissed off and henceforth lands smack bang in the middle of that anger issue again.

Can you guess where he is now? The tension and the pain rolling around behind his eyes is pretty clear to see. What was also clear, was that he was trying, and I mean really trying, to keep control. His outer body was still, but inside he was shaking with inner turmoil. He knew that if he lost it now, he could compromise everything. The last thing he needed was his guard to fall - he'd basically be handing over his gun, security pass and god knows what else, to a potential alien threat. He doubted very much that Jack would thank him for that.

His words had been venomous, he'd been practically spitting them like a cobra, and so the silence was beyond tense. Owen's eyes seemed to be permanently narrowed in suspicion as he glared at her. She was playing games with him, stupid futuristic mind games that were annoying him no end. What was she thinking would happen? Did she honestly think that the sound of tea-boy's voice was enough to make him back off? Or was she just looking for a small distraction so that she could run? From the looks of her injury, it didn't look like she'd be running far. In fact, it looked like only adrenaline and hatred were keeping her going. The Doctor in him told him that the blood loss she'd suffered over the past twenty-four hours would be enough to floor her, kill her even. But he wasn't listening. If he wasn't so utterly enraged, he might have cared.

She talked, he listened... kind of. The red mist has pretty much descended, clouding his vision and every decision he'd make from here on in. She wasn't making it easy for him to keep his cool. Apparently he was an emotionally dense moron who was half mule. Oooh, who got out of the wrong side of the cell this morning? Get you biatch! Honestly, couldn't she do any better than that? Pathetic. Owen was the king of sarcasm, insults and... weevils, but that was beside the point. The fact of the matter is, he could outdo her inseconds, but he was past that stage. He was at the seething phase, the one where he'd wait, practically stewing in his own pit of anger, before opening his big mouth. And so, he did just that, hoping to allow the silence to cool him down a few degrees. However, Sanguaze obviously had other ideas.

The silence was filled, with a barrage of her hissed words. Owen straightened his frame, allowing a deep breath to fill his lungs and tip his head back slightly. Ordinarily, he'd allow her to slag Jack off as much as she wanted. Heck, he'd probably moan along with her, laugh a little even. Today, however, was different. Sanguaze had overtaken the Captain on Owen's hit-list, and he'd have previously considered that impossible. He guessed, he's holding onto the familiar. Torchwood, was familiar, and Jack was a major part of Torchwood. The olive branch was extended for the moment. There was still a lot of bad feeling on Owen's side and a lot of unanswered questions, but their relationship had always been a bit strained. He'd never much liked authority, and he refused to bend over and take it. Funnily enough, images of Ianto spring to mind at this point... He wondered why...

Yeah ok he was right on one thing, he was the king of sarcasm as far as his narrow mind could perceive, and yes OK Sanguaze backlash of comments weren't amazing or witty, in fact they were pathetic as he put it, but give her a break, she is running on raw adrenaline at this point in the program. This was all like a big bad reality show shown on a high definition screen, except for the fact there was nothing cool about what was going down here, in fact, what was about to happen would probably have been censored off the air before it even had a chance to be broadcasted.

Then she had started hissing, gesturing to her leg as her eyes clearly picked up the slight smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips, he apparently found this amusing to some degree, and that infuriated her. It was probably one of the things that caused her to react so rashly however, as his eyes were drawn to her flexing knuckles before she had launched herself forward, ramming into his shoulder as he seemed to be caught slightly off guard. It was a jarring sensation void of any actual feeling as she managed to stumble a few steps forward, her grip tightening around the banister in front of her.

She could sense that his gun had been drawn immediately up, trained to the back of her head as she removed her grip slightly revealing the crushed metal imprint of her hand embedded in the railing as she took a step forward. Sanguaze also knew that the internal connection they both now possessed would be screaming at him to move his aim to a less vital part of her body, or even perhaps from her sight completely. This connection was having its own effect on Sanguaze, as she hissed out the challenging words before him, her eyes narrowed slits as she looked over towards him across her left shoulder. She knew what she would probably have to do, to get out of this scot-free, and that frankly was not what her mind was wanting her to do. You do not kill, maim, or injure someone you had saved only twelve hours or so beforehand.

Owen's eyes reservedly followed her gesture as she pointed to her foot. And what did she want him to do about it? Help? Try and save her from collapsing on the Cardiff docks. He was only a doctor after all? Pfft, he refused to go over to her and make himself vulnerable by bending down to examine her. Strike that, he doubted she'd let him. Even back in the autopsy room, she couldn't just let him treat her, she'd gone and done it herself. If she was so self-sufficient, he could handle herself now. Owen's mind coursed through the situation and decided the only way he'd go over to help was if she collapsed right in front of him - preferably in a fainted state so that he wouldn't lose any of his limbs when he tried to help. If she was knocked out, he'd be able to take her back to The Hub and call Jack to get his backside over immediately. A slight smile played with his lips as he imagined her waking up to the sight of him and Jack leaning over her, surveying her with cold, detached eyes that screamed 'Torchwood'. Trouble is, he doubted he could be detached from her. Heck, there was something in the back of his mind that was yelling at him for not trying to help her, and it was rather persistent. He tried to ignore it, he was rather attached to his uninjured body and he would like to keep it that way.

His body tensed in readiness as she closed the gap between them. From here, she could make a grab for him in seconds and he needed to be prepared. For all he knew, she could have Wolverine style bone claws that sprung from her knuckles. That was the problem with aliens, they always had a unfair trump card. He didn't have to be a genius to know that her intentions were hostile - it was exuding from her like heat from a flaming pier. Her eyes slipped into feline slits again, it was something he'd seen from her before and so he held himself steady. He wasn't going to back down. He watched as she flexed her knuckles, distracted slightly by the action as she launched herself at his shoulder.

That was it, the last shred of creditable judgement had been zapped from him. That left Owen Harper stripped of training, knowledge and any morals he had left - the bare bones of this Doctor were lain clear for the whole world to see. And they were fused with pain, and hate... and anger. And so, Mount Owen...erupted. Realizing too late to move completely out of the way, or make an attempt to grab her, he felt some of the impact as he shifted to the left, allowing her to roll past him. Spinning around to face her immediately, he raised his gun for the first time. His aim immediately centered on her forehead, the standard procedure for Torchwood intimidation. His hand was steady, but inside, that annoying little voice had sprung to the forefront of his mind and was now screaming at him to stop being so stupid. The connection was hard to ignore, but he was sure it was yet another trick of hers that she was playing on him. She had mind-reading capabilities now, as well as all the other crazy powers he expected her to have. What was she, superwoman? He argued with himself internally before coming to the compromise that if he needed to shoot, he would lower his aim to her leg, therefore injuring but not murdering her. The voice inside him was barely satisfied.

His aim did not falter, even as her racking breaths jolted her body. He moved forward, the wooden boards of the dock creaking under his feet as he closed the distance between them this time. He barely noticed that he was edging down a rather precarious-looking walkway that was rather narrow. He could hear the water swilling around the metal struts that held them above the sea, and had to fight to keep yet another deja vu at bay. He'd have to make her go back to The Hub with him… Never ever challenge Owen to anything. Whether it be Hub basketball or Russian roulette - he'd go for it just to spite his challenger.

In a split second, his aim had diverted onto a new target. He shot at the hand-rail that Sanguaze was gripping on to in order to steady herself. The bullet hit it's intended target - an inch away from her hand, and ricocheted off the dented metal before embedding itself into the wooden planks of the walkway between them. It was an action meant to represent his attitude. He could so easily have shot her through the skull, even with his melted gun, but he didn't. Still, he was angry and volatile enough to be using a gun against her, something he doubted she would appreciate. His aim had been so close to her hand, a slip from either or them would have lost her a finger or two. But right now he didn't give a shit. She was dangerous and needed to be contained. His aim raised to her head again as he breathed in another deep breath to steady himself.

Sanguaze was actually considering what alternatives she had, even perhaps giving in and letting him take her back into custody, that was well, until his body language indicated a shift in his attention as a round from his gun was released at the railing an inch away from her hand. She didn't flinch, she didn't waver, but her gaze definitely indicated a shift in her mood. Sanguaze almost seemed, calm, that or in a bit of a state of shock, she may be alien but she certainly couldn't grow back a blown off appendage. It was clear that the action was representing his mood, and that, Owen Harper didn't like to be challenged. Well tough luck princess, Sanguaze wasn't exactly one to lie down and roll over to anyone's whim, especially someone who threatened her with a half melted gun.

Sanguaze finally seemed to snap out of her premature daze, ass he noted the fact Owen had now edged his way up the walkway towards her, just out of arm's length reach, gun still aimed pointedly at the base of her forehead as she slowly pivoted around to face him. Glancing about slightly, Sanguaze gauged exactly where they both were as she seemed to bounce slightly, testing the strength of the wood and metal planking beneath both their feet, even if it really just looked like her nerves had been acting up. As much as Sanguaze would have loved to hammer Owen into a pulp by this point, she knew that would only do to worsen the situation into a deeper hole and so she had been contemplating other alternative options. Sanguaze not injuring someone physically? well that was a rarity generally speaking, though by the end of this she could assure you Owen's ego would be severely bruised and battered.

* * *

Jack had been out of The Hub for the best part of an hour, deep in thought, the time had skipped by and Jack hadn't even noticed. His thoughts were interrupted as he began to make his way back to The Hub. He hadn't had chance to take another stride forward has his phone suddenly sounded. He quickly flicked it open to read the brief automatic message containing just one word from the computer systems at The Hub.

TORCHWOOD

He was a couple blocks away from his base, but it didn't take long for him to get back to where he was needed. He decided to take the scenic route down to the underground base, for like the third time in a matter of couple of hours. He checked the time almost half six in the morning which surprised him to a new height. Time flew when you didn't expect it too. As he stepped of the perception filter, his boots hit ground level, the 'something wasn't right' atmosphere hit him instantly. It looked like he hadn't been quick enough because he couldn't see Gwen, Ianto or Owen also anywhere in The Hub. Instinctively he went over to the computers, noticed the SUV wasn't where it was usually parked and watched, what the CCTV had recorded momentarily a go. He couldn't help but roll his eyes; he was half expecting Sanguaze to break out. Hence the tracker. Always the attractive ones that gave him the run around. He quickly snapped into action and quickly ran up the flights of stair leading towards the tourist office. He grabbed the keys to Gwen's Megane, thankfully she had left the keys. He would put anything on that Owen would be eager to get back behind the wheel of the SUV again, so he had no choice in taking Gwen's car, he hoped she didn't mind.

Tracking the SUV to an abandoned building, a few blocks away with his vortex manipulator, he wheel spinned Gwen's car out of its parking lot and started for his destination. It really didn't take long to get to where he had to be, and he could just see the outline of the SUV ahead of him and Jack parked parallel behind it. No matter how much Gwen disliked his driving, no harm was done to her car, so that was a success in its own little way. His eyes scanned up at the building he had just pulled in front off, and it spoke for it's self. He took a brief look down at his space hopper and acknowledged that there was more then one 'blue' dot flashing back at him. He clicked his earpiece into to life, which, would, hopefully connect with the others. "Gwen, Ianto, Owen, if you can hear me, state your positions?" he asked, and waited a moment to see if he would get a response

* * *

It was then the radio on Gwen belt buzzed, as someone attempted to send her a message. Jack or Ianto, because she's sure Owen's a little too busy to be radioing her like this. If it's either one of them she'll have to save the large amounts of grief she'd like to express for later, because this was not the best time. If Braith could, she looked as if she was only a hair away from melting Gwen's face next.

The radio buzzed, an old thing. There was a newer one that Ianto and Owen would rather carry, but Gwen liked the older one she was more used to using in her previous job. Times were simpler then, as was the technology. After seeing what some of this alien technology could do, she wanted to stay as far as possible from having to use any of it. It's not so easy though when you hear of the things they can do, but you get addicted, like a kid with a new game to play. All kids like games as all humans like new, shiny things, even the ones that deny it up and down. Either way, the radio's buzz was the perfect thing to break the ice, in a way. This woman still wanted her out, she was sure.

"I'm terribly sorry about...Sanguaze." She was afraid she pronounced it incorrectly, but it rolled off the tongue fine enough as she looked at Braith hopefully she had calmed down, seeing has two of the three have made their way out the building almost instantly has she requested. It was just Gwen and the alien alone now. "Hold on." She put a hand up just a bit as a simply gesture to enhance her previous, harmless command before reaching for the radio to reply to the message.

"Copy Jack. Where the hell are you?" She didn't even think to answer his question first. No need. Whether he was still back at The Hub or taking her car, he would know. She watched Braith as she spoke, every movement and all. Patiently waiting for a reply from Jack and hoping the woman before her wouldn't go a-woll on her just yet.

* * *

Get two Time Agents in the room together, and all (well, mostly) they could do is talk about how big their wrist straps were right? At this moment, Jack's was getting too much, he wasn't sure if it could handle it. It was picking up allsorts of reading in the area, bleeping at him and that wasn't necessarily a good sign, because it never bleeped, maybe it was telling him, it was almost at its climax and that, it simply just had enough. Maybe it would blow up on him again, and when it did, he hoped, it would drop him some place that was worth going to. Actually, no he didn't hope that at all, because he was happy where he was, thanks. That team of his, was worth staying for. The year that next was, the only thing that was on his mind, apart from trying to save the universe of course, was 'that team of his'. He wasn't going anywhere, he didn't think, anytime soon. Cardiff, though? Oh, big deal, it was Cardiff, so what, a lot of things happened in Cardiff, didn't they? Plus he was a citizen, that must count for something. The point is, his wrist strap, it was unpredictable, yeah just like him, but the readings, which was probably going off the scale, never told lies, hmm, not quite like him, but don't tell me you haven't sprung a white lie – well maybe not white, because nobody is never that clean, mauve, yes he'll go with the colour mauve, it's a kinda purple if you didn't already know, the universal colour for danger. That must be saying something.

No offense to Gwen or anything, but her car was way too small… (no we aren't talking about the wrist scrap here, Gwen's car, there's a difference.) …for Jack's slightly larger frame. His knees were up to his chin, and that was with the seat pulled right the way back, to try and give him some room for controlling the pedals, and lets not get onto the rear view mirror… Focusing back on the reading he was receiving from a three way angle. He should be so lucky. First reading was the closest, it was coming from somewhere in the building, he was sat outside. Second reading, was coming from near the bay, those were the same, both flashing blue, meaning alien. So he was guessing, well it didn't take a genius to work out, that one of them was Sanguaze and the other was someone or something else, which one, was which, was something he would have to find out. But the third energy he was picking up, well that was flashing red at him, and if he remembered correctly that was, the sign to show there was another time agent nearby, that's if he remembered correctly, bearing in mind, he was kid when he first joined up, a lot since then has changed. That's not implying, that he is old, well he is, and he isn't getting any younger, but on the outside, it didn't seem like he was getting any older! But the flashing red dot disappeared anyway, like it didn't want to be traced or found, wrist straps could do that also. Clever thing.

Gwen's voice was the first to crackle over his earpiece, it was clear enough for him to hear her although she was in the habit of still using old police equipment. Honestly how does that compared to Torchwood's technology? Simple answer, it didn't. But whatever suits her fancy. She asked him where he was, oh, he could answer that, Sitting in your car, with my knees up to my eyeballs, and that isn't in anyway I find 'flexible', with my wrist scrap going of the scale, satisfied, what more do you want?' "Outside the warehouses" he decided to say and glanced up at the building, having at to squeeze in the abs, just to lean forward. Wait that was good for the abs wasn't it? He'd just have to squeeze them a bit more then. "I kinda took your car for a test drive on the way here, never doing that again, you'd be pleased to hear. What floor you on?"

The voice of Captain Jack rung loudly in Owen's earpiece, and for a split second, he was glad. Perhaps Jack would get himself over here and finish this - something that so far Owen had been incapable of doing himself. No, Sanguaze was his, he would do this himself. He needed to do this himself, alone. Gwen was the first to answer, her voice sliced the air. Owen's stomach flipped over - she was still alive. He'd had reservations about leaving her alone with Braith, and so it was a relief to know she was ok. Still, she needed help right away, and if she wouldn't tell Jack where she was,then Owen would have to.

* * *

Owen used his left hand to touch his earpiece, keeping his gun on target in his right. "Jack, track the SUV, Gwen's on the fourth floor of the building that it's parked outside." He paused, keeping his eyes on Sanguaze the entire time. He didn't know that the Captain was already standing outside the building in question. "Hurry Jack, her company ain't too friendly." He rather conveniently left out his own position, and any mention of Sanguaze. Jack needed to be with Gwen right now, no questions asked. Placing his left hand back on his gun, Owen stared into the cat-like slits that were glaring back at him. This needed to end, right here right now. The question was, how?

Oh, John just wanted to run out there, kiss her and do something indecent, like propose marriage. She was definitely a keeper that Sanguaze. If only Harper could see that. He seemed to finally acknowledge the ankle, but he didn't do anything for it. It was bloody bleeding, put the gun down and show her you aren't the enemy, his mind screamed. But something changed. He couldn't hear Harkness on the comm, he was too far away, besides, they were built for stealth, not broadcasting. It was the next thing that Harper said that gave John a slight curl of thrill that clenched his heart.

Owen's voice was next to crackle over their connection. "Yeah, thanks quincy, already outside" As if answering his question, fourth floor Owen, told him Gwen was on. Jack squeezed the abs in a little further, to lean over the steering wheel and counted up to the fourth floor, and ran his eyes over the length of the building, along side the windows, well what was left of the windows in the building. "I'm on it" Jack replied when he said Gwen's company wasn't too friendly. Wait, did that mean Sanguaze wasn't in the building and Owen was on her case… and if that was true, it meant two members of his team, so far was in the hands of two what could turn to pretty nasty ordeals each way you looks at it? He only had one pairs of hands, he could only go one way. "Reserve a line for Sanguaze, tell her she can run all she likes, but she can't hide, not for long anyway, she'll have to come out wherever she is and talk to me sooner rather then later" he told Owen. What a great morning this was turning out to be, besides he wasn't complaining, at least it looked like it wasn't going to be one of those eventful days.

* * *

Ianto had not wanted to get up that morning. He was feeling drawn, spread thin. He hated getting up, going to The Hub and not seeing Toshiko. He thought that by now he would be dealing better, but he wasn't. But, up he got. He had to check out an area by the bay, near some warehouses. There had been some minor Rift activity there the night before and he'd left a note for Jack on his desk telling him that he would be checking it out come morning. Knowing Jack, though, it was probably already missing. It was really minor, more like a blip. Nothing to call the troops into deal with. Troops meaning, Jack and Gwen. So, here he was, cold, shivering and standing in the middle of an apparently abandoned warehouse. The scanner held before him as he wandered about the warehouse, trying to follow the readings. They were beginning to spike again, but they weren't clear. He couldn't follow them to a source.

"Gwen, Ianto…*static*…can hear me…*static*…your positions?" Jack's American dialect came to his ear, broken and hissing.

He tapped his comm, hoping to knock some clarity into it. The Rift was affecting the transmission.

"Copy Jack…*static*… you?" came Gwen's voice, same as Jack.

He tapped his comm. "Jack, I'm still at the Llacern warehouse district. Readings are going off the chart but no actual physical activity. Do you need assistance?" he asked, not even sure if his response was going out to his Captain.


End file.
